Healing Him
by hamaell
Summary: AU, un-BETAd. "This is the only solution." When Light starts showing signs of a psychological unease, L admits him to a closed care wing of a hospital to help him get better. Rated for mature themes that deals with psychological disordes and implied sex.
1. pt1

**Author's Note:**

So, here we go again. This is going to be a bit of experience for me, and to be honest I'm not sure if I'm going to finish this story. But I'll try my best, and hopefully you'll like it.

In this story there will different types of psychological problems, such as personality- and eating disorders. I am no psychologist and will only be getting my information about such things from the internet, so there might be some errors in information. If anyone feels offended by something I've written, I sincerely apologize.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note

**xxx**

'I don't belong here.'

Silence is heavy, like a thousand blankets over his head. He sighs, gripping tighter; suitcase in one hand, the smooth skin of Light's hand in the other.

_Yes, you do._

'I know. It's just for a little while.'

He straightens his normally curved back when he takes a few deep breaths, as if to suck in the courage to enter the closed care wing of the large hospital. It's taken a long time to convince Light that this is a good idea, but now that they're finally here and his finger is just a few inches from the doorbell he doesn't want to let him go.

_But this is the only solution._

A nurse dressed in blue comes to meet them, a friendly smile on her lips. He tries his best to return it, but it's so hard. She introduces herself as Arisa, and then proceeds to shake his hand. Her hands are cold, and her nails scrape the back of his hand a little. Light doesn't seem to care at all, and won't shake her hand when she holds it out to him. Still, she keeps on smiling and let the door go wide open for them to enter.

'So, this is section 64. Before I show you around, I have leaflet for you.' She takes out a piece of paper and hands it to Light. Light doesn't even look at it, so he takes it from her hands and brows its content. There are rules, visiting hours and two phone numbers; on to the patient's phone, and one to the office.

'Now, let me show you around,' Arisa says, and smiles again. This time, neither he nor Light returns it.

They are led through a long corridor, and he peaks at the other patients as they all walk by. They seem tired. Tired, desperate and distant. He gulps, telling himself that Light won't end up that way.

They walk by the dining hall, the toilets and the showers, the room in which the patient's phone is (it looks old and dirty, he thinks, and realizes that Light won't ever set a foot in it, which means that he won't be able to call), the room in which the patients are allowed to smoke, before they finally reach a smaller room to their right.

Arisa makes a gesture towards the open door.

'This will be your room, Light,' she says, and they enter. The room is small, only containing a wardrobe, a bed and a bedside table. It's all white. The walls, the ceiling, the covers, the curtains. All white.

'I'll leave you alone for a while, so you can make yourself comfortable. When you feel like it, you're welcome to join the rest of the patients in the dining hall; we're about to eat dinner soon.' She leaves, and Light finally shows some emotion.

'I don't want to be here,' he whispers. 'We don't want to.'

'I know, Light. But please, just try to stand it. You'll be out in no time.'

Light mumbles something inaudible, and then he speaks up.

'Ryuk wants an apple.'

'I'll see if I can find one.'

Before he leaves, he gently guides Light to sit on the bed; he wraps his arms around him and gives him a quick kiss on his cheek.

'You'll be fine.'

He leaves, and walks towards the dining hall; he can't see Arisa anywhere. He looks around, trying to ignore the cream coloured walls and the stench of disinfectant. Finally, he finds her and when he walks up to her, he tries his best to hide how uneasy he is.

'Light wants an apple,' he says. 'I was wondering if he could have one.'

Arisa smiles.

'Of course,' she leaves and comes back a few moments later, a red apple in her hand.

'You know, appetite is usually a sign of improving.'

_Not in this case._

'Oh. I see.'

He leaves and walks back to Light's room; when he enters, he finds Light lying on his bed, talking softly to himself.

'Here you go,' he says and gives him the apple. Light put it on his bedside table, and looks at him.

'Ryuk says that you're going to leave me here and never come back.' Maybe his eyes are betraying him, but it almost looks as if Light is seconds away from crying.

'You know that's not true. I would never leave you.'

That's when Arisa comes back. She knocks on the door, and enters before they have a chance to let her in.

'Dinner is served,' she says, and smiles.

He looks at her smile and wonder if it's just an act; maybe she's just pretending to make them feel more comfortable about their decision.

'I think it's time for you to leave now. Light needs some time to adjust, but if you want to you're welcome back tomorrow; visiting hours starts at 1 p.m.'

'Please stay.' Light grabs his sweater. He looks scared, he notices.

'Don't worry love,' he says and takes Light's face in his hands. 'I'll be back tomorrow, I promise.' He kisses his forehead, and takes his hand in his when they leave. Light walks slowly, dragging his feet as if he believes that if he walks slow enough they won't ever reach the dining hall. But eventually, they do, and when Light stands in the line to get some food, he knows it's time for him to leave. Arisa lets him out, smiling (again) and tells him that he made the right decision.

_Stop smiling. Please stop smiling._

**xxx**

On the train ride home, he spends the entire trip just looking out the window. When it finally stops at his station it's raining, leaving him drenched but he doesn't care. He walks slowly back to their apartment, but when he opens the door, he finally realizes what he's done. His eyes are suddenly so wet; he wipes the tears away when they fall down his face. Heading to the kitchen, he helps himself to a large portion of ice-cream, covering it with chocolate sauce and sprinkles. He devours it quickly, and then takes another portion. Some cookies and a few cupcakes too. When he's finally full, he leaves and walks towards the bathroom.

So many sleepless nights spent over the toilet these days; he seeks solace in the emptiness of his stomach as he lurches with three fingers down his throat. It works tonight too, leaving only indifference in its wake.

_The only thing that comforts (at least for a while)._


	2. pt2

**Author's Note:**

So, it appears that this story is going to be continued. I know a lot of the stuff I've written here doesn't really make sense, but do not fear – it will all be explained in time, so please bear with me.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note

**xxx**

_It started so subtly; maybe that's why he didn't noticed it before it was too late, before it got too far. At first, Light was more nervous than he'd been before; he thought it was just performance anxiety that haunted him, since Light had his exams around that time of the year._

_And so he thought everything was going to end up fine…_

**xxx**

He made sure to be early for visiting hours, just in case Light would end up seeing his failure to be on time as a sign that he didn't really want to see him. But he wasn't allowed in until 1 p.m., as Arisa kindly informed him when he showed up. So he sits on the floor outside the heavy door, waiting impatiently for it to open. Every now and then, he looks at the clock that hangs on the opposite wall.

It turns so slowly he can barely see it moving.

Finally, the door opens. He jumps up from the ground, almost throwing himself thought the door and all but runs though the long corridor until he reaches Light's room. There, he stops for a moment, catching his breath and trying to decide what facial expression would be the best to wear so that he doesn't cause Light any kind of harm. He settles for a soft smile and kind eyes, thinking that that's probably what Light needs right now.

_Someone how cares for real._

He knocks on the door, and when no one answers he knocks again. Still, there is no answer, so he brings his hand forward until it touches the door handle. He pushes it down gently, carefully peeking into the room, searching for Light. At first, he panics when he can't find him anywhere, until he realizes that Light is still in bed. He breathes out, opens the door properly and takes a step into the (too white) room and closes the door behind him again.

'Light?'

There is a quiet mumbling that answers him, but Light doesn't even bother to raise his head from the pillow where his head rests with his back towards the door. He takes a deep breath, and walks so that he can sit down on the chair that faces the side of the bed that Light is currently lying on.

'Hello.'

'Hi.'

After that, he stays quiet for a while; he doesn't really know what to say. His eyes wander from Light's face (his closed eyes, his furrowed brow, his lips that press together tightly), to the clock on the wall, to the door, and back to Light's face.

His eyes are all over the place, trying to take everything in.

'How are you?'

'I'm fine.'

He clenches his fists in frustration, but his voice is calm when he speaks.

'How are you?'

There is a moment of silence.

'You want to know? You _really_ want to know?'

'Yes.'

'I feel like shit. I hate this place and I hate you for locking me up here. I hate this life and I want to die. Do you hear me? I want to die.'

He swallows hard, feeling the tears in his eyes threatening to fall. Light's voice is angry and he still hasn't opened his eyes.

'You don't mean that.'

'Yes, I do.'

'No. Light, look at me.'

Slowly, his eyes open and when they do, he almost wishes he hadn't asked Light to open them. His eyes are empty, hollow. There is no indication of life in them, just cold and blank. But they move and they move until they lock gazes and then he really starts crying, but he turns his head so that Light won't see.

'I want to go home. Please, take me home. Please.'

It's heart wrenching, but he does his best to keep his voice even. He tries, really tries, to explain to Light why he can't take him back home, but Light won't listen. He closes his eyes again, and drapes the covers over his head. They don't say another word to each other, but still he stays where he is until a nurse silently hints that it's time for him to leave and go home.

**xxx**

_Then, Light would start to whisper when he talked and told him to do the same. They were under surveillance, he said, and they had to be quiet so that their conversations wouldn't be heard. He also started searching for cameras and microphones wherever he went, never feeling safe anywhere. _

_And to his absolute horror, it got worse._

_He started to avoid personal conversations, and then he started avoiding every conversation. He would lock himself up in their bedroom for hours, not letting him or anyone else in. It was at this point their mutual friends started to worry as well._

_It hurt, to see his favourite person in the entire world so distant and afraid. And not being able to help was even worse, because Light insisted that he needed no such thing. Then, he started to have conversations with someone that he (eventually) found out was a shinigami named Ryuk. This was when he started insisting on Light getting professional help. This Ryuk only seemed to drag Light further into the swamp of mental unhealth; he would tell him what to do and Light would do it, things like throwing plates and throwing tantrums which usually ended with Light punching his face as hard as he could. After realizing what he had done, Light would apologize over and over, before locking himself up in their bedroom again._

**xxx**

Family Bonds. That was what it was called; he sits in an uncomfortable chair in a room with too bright light and ugly wallpapers. Around him sits more people, looking just as awkward as he feels.

Yadami Mai.

She had introduced herself to all of them as they walked in, showing them where to sit in the circle of chairs, encouraging them to talk and get to know each other, but nobody does. Still, she doesn't seem to mind and as she sits down on the last unoccupied chair and starts talking.

'So, I'm going to start with telling you about Family Bonds. It is a therapy group for family and friends of people who suffers from mental unhealth. The point of us getting together like this is to talk about and ventilate our feelings about the difficulties that come with taking care of and support our loved ones.'

Everybody nods in understanding, but still no one speaks up.

'So, let us start with introducing ourselves. Like I said before, I'm Mai.' She smiles.

_Can everybody _please_ stop smiling?_

They slowly start saying their names. Kato Daisuke, Murakami Aya , Tomuta Kaede. He stops listening, merely mumbling his own name when it's his turn. Deep down he finds himself regretting ever coming to this place. It's so hard to even think about all the anguish Light is going through as they speak, and just talking about how it's affecting _him _is useless.

After introducing themselves, the conversation moves towards what problem their friend or family suffers from. It turns out to be a whole variety of mental diseases; anorexia, borderline, bipolar. There is a psychopath, a sociopath and a few unidentified cases. After that, he spends the rest of the hour in silence, not really taking in what is said. All he wants to do is to go home and binge.

**xxx**

Light has been gone for a week; it feels like forever. It's Saturday morning and he's in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Not really breakfast in the sense of a healthy start of the day, no, not that. This is the third day in a row that his breakfast consists of cookies, bread with chocolate spread and tea with eight sugar cubes. Then he spends the entire day in the bathroom, puking up food, bile and blood, leaving only to go to the kitchen to get something else to eat. Although he visits Light every day, for at least five hours, it still isn't enough. But he tries to stand it (it's so hard), because he knows that Light needs to be where he is, or he'll never get better.

When he finally goes to bed, he doesn't fall asleep as quickly as his exhausted mind wants him to. Instead, he stays awake, only with his own thoughts as company, until the early hours of the morning when the sun starts rising.

It's so hard.


	3. pt3

**Author's Note:**

So, here is part three. I'm really starting to enjoy writing this, so there should be another chapter up soon. Hope you all enjoy this.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note

**xxx**

Two weeks, and Light's absence is killing him. It can be seen everywhere; the dishes in the kitchen, the dust in the corners of the apartment, the unmade bed (which Light would have _hated_) and the stale smell of vomit in the bathroom. All the binging is hurting his throat, but still he can't stop. Throwing up feels so good, like all his anxiety is pouring out of his body when his nails scrape to back of his throat, even though he feels even worse once it's over.

He takes a walk sometimes, to clear his head. Light and he used to do that before, at least twice a week, to get some fresh air and a bit of exercise. Light insisted that he needed it, since the only thing he did all day was sitting in front of the computer screen. Being a detective and being indoors solving cases all day had its downside, Light said, pointing out his pale skin and his bony appearance. So they would walk, talk and hold hands, and Light refused to let go of his despite the fact that so many people turned around to stare at them when they passed by.

He misses that.

**xxx**

_The day they met; he could never forget that._

_On the train, almost two years ago. He was sitting at a window, staring blankly on the landscape that was running past him. It was Friday afternoon, he recalls, and the train was packed. Still no one sat next to him; maybe the circles underneath his eyes and the awkward air around him scared them of; all but one. He almost jumped out of his seat when someone suddenly sat down next to him._

'_Sorry, but there is no other seat available. I hope you don't mind me sitting next to you?'_

_He stared. Really stared. Beside him sat a young man, beautiful beyond belief with a smooth, calming voice. It took him some time before he could answer, earning him a strange look from him._

'_Of course not.'_

**xxx**

He stands in front of the mirror, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. He touches his ribs and his collarbones, his stomach and his thighs. He can't stop poking and prodding at the fat that hangs on his stomach (maybe he has a severe case of central obesity?), and he can't stop looking at the way his thighs quiver when he walks.

Ugly. Disgusting. He hates how he looks, how he eats and throws up. Hates that he can never be good enough for Light, even though Light always tells him that he always will be.

Deep down he knows that something is terribly wrong, but instead of trying to figure out what it is, he pretends that he doesn't know and just continues with what he's doing. No one, not even Light, knows about his purging, and he intends to keep it that way.

In a way, it's his personal little secret.

**xxx**

He forces himself to the Family Bonds meetings every Tuesday. He sits and he suffers throughout the one hour long meeting, listening half-heartedly at what is being said. Mai tries to involve him in the discussions, but after a while she gives up.

'Anytime you feel like talking about what is happening to you and your loved one, please feel free to share.'

It's the third meeting today (Light has been gone for three whole weeks – he feels like dying), and he drags his feet on his way there and he ends up late. But nobody seems to mind; the conversation continues as if nothing happened.

'So, today we're going to talk about our feelings towards the person in your life who is sick. Please tell us.'

At first, no one says anything. Then, a man with dark hair and a moustache which name he can't remember, takes a deep breath and starts talking.

'My daughter has a borderline personality disorder,' he starts. 'She was diagnosed two years ago, but she's been cutting her wrists even longer. I love her, but I feel frustrated and helpless towards her; it's as if nothing I do will ever make her well. I wish I could take it all away so that she can feel better'.

He starts crying. The person next to him pats him awkwardly on his shoulder, while Mai gives him a handkerchief.

Next up is a woman, middle-aged in a yellow dress.

'My son is not really sick. He's faking to get the attention he wants. I feel disappointed and angry; I want to slap him back to reality and make him realize that pretending to be sick won't help him.'

Everybody stays quiet. Eventually Mai speaks up.

'If your son wasn't really sick, he wouldn't be in hospital, right?'

'I know he's just pretending – he's got the doctors wrapped around his finger.'

After that, only a few more open their mouths to speak. The meeting ends early, mostly because the woman in the yellow dress has made them all too uncomfortable.

**xxx**

Light is in his bed again. Arisa, who is now Light's contact person, tells him that it's the medication that is making him so tired. When he asks what kind of medication he's on, her answer is fleetingly, something about anti-depressant and sleeping pills.

No diagnosis has been put on Light, and although Light doesn't care (he rarely cares about anything these days), he feels frustrated and angry. Arisa assures him that the doctors are working on it, but that it's too early to put a diagnosis on him yet; it's important to do tests on Light so that he gets the right one. If a wrong diagnosis was affirmed, the consequences could be devastating.

Once he's done talking to Arisa, he walks into Light's room again, sitting down on the edge of the bed, stroking his cheek lovingly.

'Hello love.'

'Hello.'

His answer is weak, barely audible.

'How are you feeling?'

'Tired.'

'I can see that.'

Light actually smiles a little, and when he smiles back, Light sits up and gives him a hug. Surprised but not complaining (not ever) he holds on as hard as he can, breathing in the sweet smell that is Light's, and listens carefully when Light whispers loving nonsense in his ear; and he whispers back.

He whispers and holds on.

**xxx**

_The young man introduced himself as Light, and it didn't take him long to realize that this Light was almost (maybe even more) as intelligent as he was. Just before his stop, they had exchanged numbers and he promised Light that he would call._

_Eventually, he did._


	4. pt4

**Author's Note:**

Right, so here comes the tricky part. I can't promise that all the stuff I write about different psychological diseases is one hundred procent correct, so I'll say it again: if anyone is offended by anything I've written, I sincerely apologize.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note

**xxx**

'_Hello?'_

'_Hello.'_

_A laugh._

'_I thought you'd never call.'_

'_I'm calling now.'_

'_I've noticed.'_

_After that; silence. But for some reason it's not awkward. Instead, he finds himself enjoying listening to Light breathing softly into the phone._

**xxx**

He sits at their kitchen table with a cup of tea in his hands. He looks out the window, observing how the rain lands on the glass and makes its way down. He feels empty, aimless. It's been a month and Light is still in closed care, showing no sign of any kind of recovery. It hurts so much not being able to help, and he feels so angry every time he visits Light and is told that they still haven't determined a diagnosis.

_What is it that's taking so long?_

And Light is getting worse by the day. He won't sit up, he won't eat, he won't talk; the only one he does talk to is Ryuk, and it's such silent words that spill from his lips that no one can hear. But he can't give up on him. Someday, _someday_, things will turn to the better. He knows that, has to think that.

His head turns towards the toilet. A second of dread, then he stands up and walks into his own nightmare.

**xxx**

'Light, are you feeling any better at all?'

'Honestly?'

'Yeah'

'How am I supposed to feel better, when I'm not even sick?'

_Yes, you are._

'But you've been so distant lately (lately? For so long).'

'You're wrong.'

He snaps.

'No, Light. I'm right. How can you say that you're not sick, when all you want to do is to die. How can you say that you're not sick when you're talking to a shinigami that doesn't exist and how can you say you're not sick when you're looking for cameras and microphones everywhere?'

Just after saying it, he wish he could take it all back. Light stares at him, then abruptly turns around and leaves him to face his back.

'I'm done talking to you. You should leave.'

'I don't want to. Light, we need to talk about this.'

'I said leave.'

'But Light…'

'GO!'

Light's voice is loud and angry, just like it is when he gets upset. He wants to keep pushing and pushing until he makes him aware of his sickness, but Light looks so fragile when he lies on his side; it makes the protruding ridges of his spine even more visible. Unable to control himself, he leans forward and kisses Light on top of his head.

'I'll come back tomorrow.'

No answer. So he walks out the door and doesn't make eye contact with Arisa as she gives him a questioning look. Never before has he left Light before visiting hours are over.

**xxx**

_Sometimes, their friends would ask where Light was, every time they met up to spend time together. And he never knew how to answer, so he said that Light was studying for his exams. He never let them into their apartment, in case Light would throw a tantrum in front of everyone and that would only make things worse for him._

_For a while it worked, but eventually a few of them had to know the truth. The first one he told was Mello, a friend of his since childhood that Light befriended shortly after they got together. He then told Matt, Mello's friend who they had gotten quite closed too in those past two years. Near, another childhood friend, was the last to know. He wasn't really particularly close to Light, but tried his best to show pity._

_Although pity wasn't exactly what Light needed at that point._

**xxx**

Back at family Bonds, things are still quite awkward. But things are getting more interesting. His mind can't help to indulge in the knowledge of new things, and listening to the other describing all the problems that haunts their loved ones is fascinating. Although he still doesn't talk about Light, no one seems to mind. Words flow more easily and frequently now, and people are starting to open up.

Mai says that every week from now on, they will bring up a mental disease and talk about it; things like symptoms, behaviour, medication and how it is to take care of someone with the chosen sickness.

'I thought that we should start with depression.' Mai says. 'It's very common and is often involved in the symptoms of most other disorders. Does anyone like to share?'

An old lady with wrinkles and sad eyes speak up.

'My son is depressed. I started noticing that something was wrong when he stopped going to his yoga lessons. Then he quit his job, and then he started to avoid even leaving his bed. His wife told me all about it; I think she's the one who's struggling the most.'

'What you're describing are very usual symptoms of depression. Lack of interest in things that was usually important to the person; a feeling of worthlessness which could lead to things like quit working or stop doing things that said person was good at; on top of that, people with depression are often lacking a sense of self-worth, and will constantly look down on their selves and their achievements.'

Mai finish talking, and takes a deep breath. When she talks she usually doesn't stop to take a breath before she's finished talking, which leaves her breathless for a while.

'Does anyone else have anything to say?'

A man with glasses speaks up (he recalls an name, for once; Kato Daisuke).

'My son has been diagnosed with depression.'

There is a moment of silence, before he starts talking again.

'He's tried to kill himself three times this year. His total suicide attempts over the years counts up to twelve. It's incredibly hard to see your child feeling so bad that the only option left is to kill himself. Right now he's in closed care in a hospital nearby. He still isn't well, but he's realized that he has problems and is trying to get through them. I am so proud of him.'

_Light will get to that stage, won't he?_

He dries his eye that are wet with tears, but he sits with his back straight and his head lift high, to really pointing at what he just said.

**xxx**

Puking puking puking.

He lies exhausted on the bathroom floor, chest moving heavily as he bites back the bile and tries to focus on anything other than his aching throat. Everything hurts and he cries when he thinks about what he's done and what he's doing.

_Repulsive._


	5. pt5

**Author's Note:**

I know this chapter is a little short; I'm sorry about that.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note.

**xxx**

'Arisa told me that they will be able to put a diagnosis on you soon.'

'And you're telling me this because..?'

'I thought you might be interested.'

'Well, I'm not. I want to go home.'

'That's not possible right now.'

'I know.'

For once, Light is facing him. It took him quite some time to forgive him for his outburst, but to be honest, he can understand why. Light has been in hospital for exactly four weeks and six days, and he's missing him even more by the minute. How he wishes that he could just stand up, take Light's hand in his and leave. The closed care wing smells of disinfectant, and the wallpaper is almost as ugly as the one covering the walls of the Family Bond's meeting room. All the white surrounding him is making him nervous.

'But you know, I'm not the one who should be here.'

'What do you mean?'

'Do you think I've never heard you?'

_What?_

'What do you mean?'

'I know what you do at night. I've seen you stuffing your face, and I've heard you in the toilet, throwing your guts up. I _know _what you're doing – you're the one with the real problem.'

He bites down hard until his jaws hurt before he answers.

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Yes, you do. It's called an eating disorder; I thought you were clever enough to figure that out.'

He stays silent, not denying nor affirming the statement. Light is quiet too, only looking at him strangely every now and then. He does not return his gaze, keeping his eyes focused on the floor.

**xxx**

The Family Bonds meetings are getting easier and easier to go to. He's learning so much, and he's even taking some time off work to do research on everything they've discussed so far. They've gone over depression and bipolar so far; today's subject is borderline personality disorder, apparently.

But today, he's feeling different. Like there is a black cloud hanging over his head, a sign of distress. He feels nauseous and his hands are cold, too cold. He wants to binge, needs to rinse his body from all its negativity, but there is nothing here for him to do so. He tries to focus on something, anything, but his gaze can't seem to find a place to stay. It's getting too uncomfortable to be here.

For once, it's Mai who is late. She mumbles something about the traffic while digging in her purse to find the papers that she always brings. Something seems to be bothering her, but he doesn't have the will or the energy to try to find out what it is. Sweat is breaking out on on the palm of his hands, as it always does when he's feeling uneasy, and it's distracting.

'Alright, let's just get on with it,' she says, and smiles. 'We're talking about the borderline personality disorder today, as I mentioned last time.'

He stops listening, and stands up.

'I'll be back in a second.'

He leaves the room in a rush, almost running towards the bathroom. In front of the toilet, he lurches over and over, until the only thing leaving his body is bright red blood. Instead of standing up and go to rinse his mouth and then go back to the meeting, he stays on the floor, kneeling over the toilet with the stench of vomit sharp in his nose. And he stays there, until his muscles gives up on him and he falls to the floor as a puddle of anxiety, tears and despair; all his feelings more overwhelming than ever before.

Light knew. He had known all along.

**xxx**

_They spoke on the phone a few more times before they decided to meet up. It was a Sunday morning when he sat impatiently outside a coffee shop, waiting for Light to show up. He was early, he knew that, but rather that than late. For some reason, he thought that Light was one of those people who were always on time and expected everyone else to be as well. And as he thought, Light arrived just on time._

_The weather was nice, one of those sunny spring mornings that only April could bring, so they sat outside; L with his tea, Light with his coffee. As it would seem, Light liked talking about himself. He was, however, not annoyed with this fact, but rather fascinated, taking in everything Light said with wide eyes. Light drank his coffee black (at that, he just had to wince); he didn't enjoy sweet things apart from the occasional piece of dark chocolate; he was studying law at the university of To-Oh; he had a very strong belief in justice and he just recently moved out from his parent's house to his own apartment, not too far away from the university. _

_He was soaking it in, like a sponge, and he was loving it._

'_So, enough about me. What do you do?'_

_He smirked._

'_I'm a detective.'_

'_Oh, really? Interesting. Have I heard of you?'_

'_Possibly.'_

**xxx**

He was in the shower when the phone rang. He immediately knew it was from the hospital; no one else ever phoned him. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist sloppily, before rushing towards the phone.

'Hello?'

_Breathless._

'Hi, this is Arisa from section 64. The doctor here would like to have a meeting with you tomorrow at one o'clock. Is that alright with you?'

'Absolutely; I'll be there.'


	6. pt6

**Author's Note:**

I know this chapter is quite short, just like the last one. Hopefully, they'll get longer from now onwards, but I can't promise anything :3

Soon, things will get interesting. I hope.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note.

**xxx**

_That first meeting turned in to endless more. At first, they only went to coffee shops, trying out different ones. When there was no longer a single coffee shop they hadn't tried out, their meetings extended to things like going to a museum, or take a walk in a park._

_He was starting to really enjoy Light's company; never before had he met someone who could match his intelligence like he did._

_But it was when Light invited him into his apartment that things got really interesting._

_The door was a light brown, clean and inviting. Still, it took him a few seconds before he rang on the doorbell; he tried to tell himself that he wasn't nervous at all. It didn't take Light long to open the door – he even suspected that he'd been standing right behind it, waiting for him._

'_Hello.'_

'_Hi.'_

_Maybe he was nervous as well._

**xxx**

Tuesday, and he's still in bed. Last night binge-and-purge session had been so exhausting that it only took him a few minutes to fall asleep, and now he still can't bring himself to get out of bed. He knows that he has a meeting with Light's doctor at one o'clock, but other than that he has nothing planned; he's going to visit Light once he's done talking with the doctor.

In other words; there was no reason for him to get out of bed.

But just when he's about to doze off to sleep again, the phone rings. With a groan, he stretches and then stands up, legs still wobbling slightly from exhaustion.

'Hello?'

'Hi, this is Mai. Where are you?'

He blinks in confusion, at first not even realizing who he's talking to.

'What?'

'Where are you? The meeting has already started.'

Oh. Family Bonds; he completely forgot. But he has no intention of going there today anyway.

'I'm sick. I'm sorry, I should have called you. '

'Oh, that's okay then. But next time, please tell me in advance. Thank you.'

He hangs up on her before she has time to say goodbye. Thinking and talking about Family Bonds was not a good thing to do, he realizes, when his head starts pounding and he feels like fainting. Dragging himself back to bed, he buries himself under the covers with the intention of never coming out.

_An everlasting coma._

But apparently, that was not meant to be. He is only asleep for a few minutes before there is someone knocking on the door. He tries to ignore it at first, but whoever is outside does not give up. He pulls the pillow over his head, trying to block out the sound.

It's when the person outside starts cussing that he realizes who it is.

'Open the fucking door, asshole!'

And that would be Mello.

He has no other option but to get out of bed (again) and unlock the door to let him in. He barely have time to push the door handle down before Mello kicks the door wide open and storms into the room, an opened chocolate bar gripped tightly between his gloved clad fingers.

'God, you look like shit. But you always do; no change there. Where is he?'

'Light?'

'No, Santa Claus. Of course I meant Light, you idiot!'

Insults raining over his head, he still doesn't care. All he wants to do is go back to bed and sleep forever, but with Mello around there will be no such thing.

After a while, Mello calms down enough to sit down on the couch and run his fingers through blond hair.

'We're worried about him, you know.'

'So am I.'

'Where is he?'

'I'd rather not tell.'

'Where is he?'

He takes a deep breath, thinking that if anyone has the right to know where Light is, it would be Mello.

'He's in hospital.'

'Shit. Is it really that bad?'

'Yes, it's that bad.'

_Or maybe even worse._

'Me and Matt thought we'd drop by the see how you the two of you were holding up,' he says, and then pauses. 'But I guess we'll only have to check up on you now.'

'Where is Matt?'

'He's on his way. Had to stop by the store to get you some cake.' He winks. 'I know cake will make you feel better.'

A sad smile ghosts across his lips, but he plays unconcerned – even though he know that whatever's left of the cake when Mello and Matt leaves will end up in the toilet.

**xxx**

He sits in a chair in front of an elderly man with glasses and a white mustache. He introduces himself as Quillish Wammy, but insists on him calling him Watari.

'I guess you know why you're here, right?'

'It's about Light's diagnosis.'

He says it quietly, his voice sounding monotone even to his own ears. How he have waited for this day, but now that it's here he's scared. Scared of what will happen next.

'Exactly.'

He nods.

'We've done very thorough tests on Light, so the diagnosis we've put him on is the right one. I am well aware that it has taken much longer than we intended it to, but we have now reached a conclusion, and…'

He interrupts, annoyed and upset.

'If you knew that it was taken much longer than necessary, why didn't you hurry up? Light has been here for almost two months, and he still haven't improved; you haven't even given him some medication to make him better.'

'I understand that you're angry, but…'

'Just tell me what's wrong with him. Just tell me what it is that is haunting him.'

Watari puts away his papers, leans forward and looks him straight in his eyes.

'As you wish.'


	7. pt7

**Author's Note:**

In this chapter it will, again, involve description of a psychological disease. I've tried my best to keep to the facts, but if there's something I've written that isn't right and someone is offended by this, I sincerely apologize.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note.

**xxx**

Watari stares at him for a few moments. He feels uneasy and impatient; can't he just tell him already?

'Light has something that is called paranoid schizophrenia. Do you know what that is?'

'Not really.'

'Well, as you can probably tell from the name, Light is schizophrenic. Right now, he's in something that we call a period; he's experiencing hallucinations and paranoia, and taking in the severity of his condition I'd say that he's psychotic. Psychotic means that the person who has it has lost the grip of reality, and thankfully, this will go away eventually.'

'I know. Will he ever get better?' He's so nervous, hands shaking and jaws biting, he tries to keep calm.

It's not really helping.

'I'm sorry; but no one can tell for sure. The complex of this period might indicate that he will have one or possibly more but he will, however, have moments between his periods that he will act "normally", like any other person who is not suffering from schizophrenia.'

'Okay. So… What's next?'

'We'll be putting him on some medication, starting off with Leponex for his psychotic state, Xanor for his anxiety and Stilnoct to make him sleep. We'll see how that goes, making changes if we have to.'

'Okay.'

**xxx**

_Sometimes, when Light wasn't locked up in their bedroom, he would sit in front of the TV, watching the news and writing furiously in a book. He tried to peek over his shoulder to see what he was writing, but Light would close the book with a slam. He was not to know, he said._

_But one day, one of those few days that Light would go to university only to do a test, he took his chance. Searching every corner of their apartment, he finally found the book lying underneath the mattress in their bed. It was black, like coal, and there was something written on the front._

_Death Note._

_Cautious, he opened it carefully. On the first page, there were a number of rules written with Light's swirling handwriting._

_1. The human whose name is written in this note shall die._

_On the other pages, Light had written names. Many, many of them. It took him a while to figure out why he recognized them so well, but then he did; they were the names of criminals, the names of those who had been mentioned on TV in the past few weeks._

**xxx**

'Light?'

'Yeah?'

'Have they told you about your diagnosis?'

'Yes. And they're wrong. I'm not psychotic, and I'm definitely not schizophrenic.'

'I think you should listen to them.'

'Why?'

'Well, maybe they're right. And if they're not, you will be free to go.'

Light seems to ponder on that for a while. His brow furrowed, teeth chewing lightly on his bottom lip and his eyes gazing loosely out the window; eventually he comes to what looks like a decision.

'Alright. They can try, but I will prove them wrong.'

He sighs with relief, but silent enough so that Light can't hear.

'Good. I think you should get some rest now, before dinner.'

'I wish I could cook my own food,' Light sighs. 'The food they serve here is a joke.'

At that, he has to smile. Ever reliable, of course Light would like to do everything by himself. Never has he let him cook, clean or do anything else; Light _knew_ that he would do a better job and that it would just be a waste of time if he cleaned first and then for Light to do it all over again to make it right.

'You're pretty when you smile,' Light says.

**xxx**

There is a horrible sound when he vomits, a rasping noise that makes him throw up all over again. He can't help but eat, he can't help himself when he pukes. Everything he's going through (that Light's going through) is making his head spin and makes his actions uncontrollable. He's been stuffing his face for three days in a row now, and his work is taking serious damage, but he can't bring himself to pull himself together and make an effort to solve all the unsolved cases he's working on.

He tells himself that the world won't go under if he takes some days off to make himself feel better. But then again, he really doesn't. All that happens is that he feels worse, feels useless. He cries at night, missing Light, missing his warmth and his touch, missing his every quirk.

At day, he keeps prodding his fat, prodding his flesh. He feels like dying when he looks himself in the mirror, staring blankly at his body and his eyes that seem so hollow. He feels empty and cold, and he knows that he's only really alive when Light is around.

He wonders how he could live so long without him.

**xxx**

'_Welcome.' Light opens the door and stands aside so that he can walk in. Taking of his shoes, he takes in all the aspects of his friend's apartment. It's small, but cosy, wallpapers light and windows wide, making it look slightly bigger than what it probably is. Light shows him around, letting him see the bedroom, the kitchen and the living room. Everything is clean and neatly decorated; the bed is made, the floors are vacuumed, there is no dust in sight. Compared to his own apartment, this is a palace._

'_So…' Light says. 'What do you want to do?'_

_He stays silent for a while, thinking._

'_I want to know more about you, Light-kun.'_

'_There is really nothing else to know; I've already told you everything there is about me. But how about you tell me about yourself? All I know about you is that you're a detective.'_

'_There is really nothing else to know,' he says, mockingly looking into Light's eyes._

_Such beautiful eyes, colour rich and relaxed. And his smile. It forms dimples in his cheeks and when he laughs it reaches up to his eyes until they're laughing too. He could stare at him for hours, listening intently to what Light is saying, doing, trying to figure out what he's thinking._

_After a while, Light speaks again._

'_There is something I would like to do with you. Is that alright?'_

'_Of course. _

_He blinks._

'_What is it?'_

_He laughs._

'_You'll see.'_

**xxx**

The medicines mentioned in this chapter are ones that are used in my home country. If you don't recognize them, that's okay; eventually I will explain what they are for and how they work. Thank you for your patience.


	8. pt8

**Author's Note:**

I don't really know what to say here. I just finished writing this chapter and I wanted to put it up straight away?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note.

**xxx**

'This is the last meeting with Family Bonds,' Mai says. 'I hope that you all have felt this experience as meaningful, and that you've all learnt something useful that you can bring home with you.'

Every one say 'thank you' and 'goodbye' before they leave, but he waits until their all gone before he rise from his seat and heads for the door. He doesn't want contact with anyone.

But suddenly, Mai calls out to him, and he forces himself to stop.

'How did you find it?' she asks.

'It was alright.'

_It was terrible._

'Good, I'm glad to hear that.' She smiles. 'Though you never really shared anything with the rest of us; how come?'

'I don't know, I guess I was too busy listening to everyone else.'

_I don't want to share. You have no business knowing what Light and I are going through._

'Okay then.' She seems to think for a moment, and then her face lit up, like she suddenly came up with the best idea of her life. 'How about we exchange numbers?' she says. 'Then maybe you can talk to me about what is going on, if you don't want to share it with so many other people.'

He feels like smashing his head against the wall, but he doesn't. Instead, he plays nice and gives her his mobile number. No way would he ever give her the number to his and Light's home telephone.

She smiles and waves when he leaves, but he doesn't return either. All he can think about is Light and how he's doing, about Light and how he suffers. And he suffers too, because there really isn't anything he can do to help him.

It hurts so bad he could throw up (though he does that all the time anyway).

**xxx**

'_What is it?'_

'_You'll see.'_

_Light leads him further into the apartment, hand over his eyes so he can't see; eventually sitting him down on what he presumes is the couch. But he doesn't sit down next to him, and he doesn't takes his hand away from his face. He's a little nervous, doesn't like not knowing what is going to happen; so he tries to take control of the situation._

'_What are you doing?'_

_But Light doesn't answer. Instead, he feels him leaning closer, feels the warmth and the sweet smell of his skin radiating from his body. He shudders._

_Soft lips on his._

**xxx**

It's been eleven days since Light was put on medication, and the side effects are kicking in; hard. He's shaking, sweating, hallucinating and not eating. He's agitated and upset, and every time he comes to visit him he cries.

'I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here.'

And he sits next to him and comforts him in the best way he can, holding his hand and patting his head when Light puts it in his lap. He wonders how these medicines will help Light, when the only thing they've done so far is making him worse. His hallucinations has worsen – he firmly believes that the cameras belong to the government, and they are watching everyone in order to find out who is "wrong" and has to be removed from society. Light is certain that he's wrong, and he's terrified of someone coming to get him. The first week he locked himself in three times, because he saw people standing outside his window with a gun in their hands.

It's painful

'You've lost weight,' he comments one day.

'No, I haven't.' He's voice is calm, but inside he's thrilled. If he's getting thinner that means that all that purging and binging is finally leading him towards something good.

'Yes you have. Have you thrown up again?'

'You shouldn't spend time worrying about me,' he answers. 'All you need to do is to take care of yourself so that you can get better. If there is anything you need, all you have to do is ask Arisa for help, or talk to me about it when I'm here. And you know you can always call me, right?'

'Yeah…' His answer is fleeting, like he really hasn't listened at all. But suddenly, there is a reaction. His whole body tenses, terrible fear in his eyes as he jump out of bed and points at the window.

'They're here. They're here!'

He's screaming on the top of his lungs, and he stands up and run towards him, hugging him and trying to calm him down; but it isn't working. He can see nothing in the window, no shadow or a window cleaner that could trigger Light's reaction. There is nothing.

Arisa comes running into the room, along with two other attendants.

'What happened?'

She talks loudly, trying to make her voice heard over Light's screaming. He can barely hear her anyway.

'I don't know; first he was calm, and then suddenly he saw someone outside the window.'

He's panicking, maybe even more than Light – it's been a long time since he last experienced one of Light's tantrums, but even so he can't remember that they were ever this bad.

The attendants are holding Light down, giving him a forced syringe in the crook of his arm. At first, nothing happens, but then Light is suddenly so quiet and he leans heavily on Arisa. He helps her put Light back to bed, and he pulls the covers over him.

'I think it's best if you leave now,' Arisa says. He's never seen her quite that serious before. 'I'm sorry you had to see that.'

'Does this happen often?'

'At least once a day.'

She pauses.

'Is there any chance that you could drop by more often?' she asks. 'Light is often much calmer and happier when you're around.'

'Would that be okay?'

'Absolutely.'

'Then I'll come. I'll be here for as long as he needs me.'

'Thank you.'


	9. pt9

**Author's Note:**

I hope I'm not getting repetitive.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note.

**xxx**

_A breath. A shuddering breath, and then they come back. Again and again. Light's lips are supple and they're warm; his head is spinning because he's so very unused to this. But he kisses him back, again and again, without really knowing why._

_Without really knowing why someone like Light would ever kiss someone like him._

**xxx**

'How are you feeling?'

'Tired.'

He gets a feeling of déjà vu, remembering the last time they said those words. Before… It seems like forever ago, even though it's only a couple of weeks. Or more.

But this time, things are different. Light is still under the influence of the syringe they gave him yesterday. He looks worn, exhausted.

'How are the hallucinations?'

'They're not hallucinations.'

Despite being so drugged, Light manages to make his anger show.

'It's for real; I can't understand how _you_ of all people won't believe me. Don't you understand how serious this is, or are you just in denial?'

He stares for a while, thinking about how to answer. If he agrees, he's only feeding the schizophrenia, but if he disagrees, Light will get angry.

He doesn't like any of those two options; so he settles for a tie, something in between that Light will be partly happy about.

'I'm not aware of being under surveillance, Light-kun.'

'But I'm telling you now! I'm telling _everyone _now, but no one will listen.'

'I'm sorry, Light-kun,' he surrenders. 'I'll see what I can do to help you.'

'Thank you.'

It hurts to see Light so unable to see how wrong he is. It hurts to see Light so far into his psychosis that he can no longer differ between what's real and what his mind is making up.

'Can you bring me the Death Note?'

It hurts so much.

**xxx**

Mai calls him five times before he picks up; more in annoyance than anything else.

'Yes?'

'Hello, it's Mai.'

She sounds too blithesome, too happy.

'I know.'

'How are you?'

'I'm fine.'

Awkward silence; he doesn't care. He deeply regrets giving her his number. He knows she wants him to be polite and ask her how she's doing, but he doesn't. He's not playing nice today.

'So… I thought that maybe you would like to meet me in the park? We could take a walk and you can tell me all about Light.'

_What?_

'Light?'

'Yes. Isn't that what your loved one is called?'

'I think you're mistaking.'

_How could she know?_

'Oh, I'm sorry.'

She doesn't sound sorry at all.

'You shouldn't do that; you shouldn't try to interfere with other people's lives.'

'I'm sorry, I thought…'

He hangs up.

**xxx**

He sits at their kitchen table, plate full of food in front of him. For once, he's taken the time to actually cook a meal, instead of just eating whatever junk that's in the cupboards. He looks at it, can't help but compare it to the food Light makes.

Comparing everything he does to what Light do.

He tries to eat slowly. He tries to keep it down. He tries to drink just one glass of water instead of four. But most of all, he tries to think about anything but the image of himself with his face bent over the toilet, and the relief that it will bring him for those few seconds that it lasts.

He wants it so bad.

But his throat is still sore and his fingers are hurting where his teeth bites down every time he purges. The teeth marks are visible, and whenever he goes outside (not that he does that a lot, especially not lately) he wears gloves.

But he can't hide from Light. Can't hide from the knowing look in his eyes, even though he's on medication – he still sees. He sees everything.

He looks at his stomach. It feels swollen and sore, bigger than usual.

That does it for him. He finish the food in just a couple of minutes, he indulges in bread with chocolate spread. Then he walks slowly towards the bathroom, taking each step carefully. He bends over the toilet, pushing his fingers down his throat.

But nothing happens.

He's terrified. He tries again, pushing further and further, until his fingernails are digging painfully into the back of his throat. Still nothing.

He looks around, searching desperately. His eyes lock on his toothbrush, as an idea takes form in his mind. Not really thinking, he grabs it, looking at it fleetingly before replacing his fingers with it. And when he throws up, it feels so good.

Feels so good.

**xxx**

_He confronts Light when he comes home._

'_What the hell is this?' He waves the note book in front of Light's face. The Death Note._

'_How did you find it?' Light looks calm, but he can see the anger burning in his eyes. He can see how Lights frame is shaking ever so slightly, probably with anger too. But Light has no right to be angry. He has. So he replaces desperation with anger, and then it's his eyes that shoot burning daggers._

'_What is it?'_

'_It's a note book.'_

'_Yes, I can see that,' he answers dryly. 'But what are you doing with it?'_

'_You should have seen that too.'_

_Light is being an insufferable ass. And he knows that he knows it too; it pisses him off even more._

'_Light, this is serious. How could you do something like this; do you want people to die?'_

'_Ah, you're not seeing the whole truth. All those people, all those criminals, have died, and if they haven't yet they're about to. Heart attacks, all of them. Aren't you proud of me, _detective_? _

_He can do nothing but stare. Anger burning out, he feels nothing. No words can describe how powerless he feels against Light's demons. Nothing can describe how helpless he feels against Light's disease. There is nothing he can do and he hates it; he finally admits to himself that maybe Light should be in hospital. Maybe Light needs professional help._

'_Light…'_

'_Call me Kira.'_


	10. pt10

**Author's Note:**

I have so much fun writing this. That's probably why I update so often. And that can also be translated as I-have-no-life-so-I-write-this-instead.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note.

**xxx**

'I'm sad to say that Light isn't responding positively to the medication we've put him on,' Watari says.

'I've noticed. So, what happens next?'

'Well, the only thing we can do right now is to try some new medication. We'll be replacing Leponex with Risperdal; if we get the dosage right, hopefully it'll work more effective on Light's schizophrenia than his current medicine.'

'What about the side effects?'

'Light will probably experience increased anxiety, restlessness and will have problems falling asleep. We'll continue the use of Stilnoct so that it won't be so hard for him to fall asleep, but we will replace Xanor with a compound called Zoloft. It concentrates solely on helping him get rid of his anxiety, unlike Xanor, which is also used as a cure for fidgeting and stress.

**xxx**

Smoke in the entire apartment, but he's too worn to tell Matt to put his fifth cigarette out. He thinks about Light, about how sick he is. He thinks about how badly he wants to change, change to the better so that he can be good enough for Light. Light says that he's "too good to be true" every time he kisses him or holds his hand, but he knows that isn't true. How could he ever be?

'Tell us again.' Mello stares at him with disbelief, like it's impossible for him to take it all in.

'I'd rather not.'

'Please?' Matt put out his cigarette, only to light another one.

'I've already told you about all that happened. About the men outside the window and the surveillance. There really isn't anything else to say.'

'What about the Death Note?'

'What about it?'

'Has he written anything else in it?'

'No. He doesn't have it; I've kept it here.'

'That's probably good,' Matt says, staring out the window as he takes a particularly deep drag of his cigarette. He looks too worried.

'It_ is_ good, you idiot.' Mello snaps. There is a crease in his forehead that won't go away. He's fairly certain that he's got one as well. He turns away from the both of them, walking towards the kitchen. He promises himself that he's not going to binge; he's just going to eat a cupcake to ease his nerves.

'Do you want anything?' he calls.

'Do you have any chocolate?' Mello calls back. 'If you have, I'll take that. What about you, Matt?'

'No thanks, I'm fine.'

He brings back the cupcake and the chocolate bar, giving the chocolate to Mello who tears the wrapping off and devours it before he even has a chance to sit down. He can't blame him though; the cupcake is gone in seconds.

'So... What happens now?'

'They've put him on some new medication. Hopefully, they will work better than the previous ones. But we will just have to wait and see; it will take a while before the doctor can tell if they're working or not.'

'Geez, what a mess,' Matt breathed out, smoke leaving his mouth as he spoke. 'Why did this happen? It's not fair.'

No, it isn't fair. It's not fair on either of them. It's not fair that Light has to suffer, it's not fair that he constantly worries about him, it's not fair on Mello and Matt that have to accept that one of their closest friends is in closed care. It's not fair to anyone. But what can they do?

Nothing. Nothing at all, apart from waiting and hoping; hoping that things will change for the better.

**xxx**

_One innocent kiss turned into more not so innocent ones. He still didn't understand it, but Light seemed to be all willing to kiss him and he didn't mind. Kissing Light was better than any sweet treat ever made. The way his lips moved, how his tongue shyly brushed against his. He could get lost forever._

_One innocent kiss turned into more not so innocent ones. He still didn't understand it, but Light seemed to be all willing to kiss him and he didn't mind. Kissing Light was better than any sweet treat ever made. The way his lips moved, how his tongue shyly brushed against his. He could get lost forever._

_He remembers their first official date. He remembers how his hands were shaking, how he was running out of words when he saw Light smiling towards him. They met at their favourite coffee shop, Leia's, and when they sat down to order his hands were still shaking._

_'Are you nervous?' Light asked, quirking __his eyebrow questingly_

_'Just a little.' My voice is shaking too._

_'Don't worry; it's going to be okay. I promise.'_

_He laughs, a friendly one and his eyes are…_

_His eyes..._

**xxx**

'You've been here an awful lot lately.'

'Do you want me to leave?'

A sharp breath.

'Never. Don't leave. Please don't leave.'

'I'm not leaving.'

'Yes you are. '

'Only when they tell me to go. I'll come back tomorrow, I promise.'

'Will you stay then?'

'For as long as they let me.'

Light seems happy enough with that answer. He's more relaxed now, more lucid. Watari says that he'll stay that way until the medicines start to kick in. So he takes advantage of the moment; he moves from his chair and sits down next to Light on the bed, taking a hold of his hand.

'I love you.'

'I know. I love you too.'

He squeezes his hand, knowing that it's true. And even though Light is hard to handle right now, he would never, could never, stop loving him. It's impossible. Light has been imprinted in him, like he's in some strange way a part of him. Losing Light would be like losing a vital organ; he simply wouldn't cope with that. The idea of losing Light makes him sick to his abdomen.

'Did you bring the Death Note?'

'No.'

He can tell by the look in Light's eyes that he will let go of his hand before he actually does it.

'Why not?'

'You don't need it here. Light, it isn't real.'

'Yes, it is. And I need it. I'm Kira and I need to kill; I need to clear this world from all the criminals!'

'No, you don't. You're not Kira, you're Light. Yagami Light.'

'You're a detective, you should know that all I'm bringing is justice. Those people _deserve_ to die. All the murderers, the rapists, the pedophiles, the thieves. They deserve to die, for all the pain they cause innocent people on this planet. It's my job to clear this world from evil.'

'No, Light, it isn't. Killing people makes you a murderer too. Have you thought about that?'

'I'm not a murderer; I'm a god. My powers are divine and the wrongdoers will feel my wrath. You should worship me!'

_I already do._


	11. pt11

**Author's Note:**

Wow, updates are frequently. For the first time _ever_. Is it wrong that I'm actually just a little proud of myself?

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note.

**xxx**

_Shaking fingers shaking voice. He tries to still it but it's so hard when Light looks at him with those eyes. Those eyes that has been in his thoughts for hours and hours since he first met him. He's so so very happy that he had the guts to call, even though it took him a while to gather up the courage._

_Because he was, and still isn't, a people person; he doesn't do well in social situations. Sometimes he wishes that he was, but it's just a personality trait that he has. _

_As it turns out, Light is quite the opposite. He's very polite, knows exactly what to say to every person he meets (how he does that, he will never understand) and he radiates confidence and comfort._

_But his eyes are kind when they look at him, and somehow he calms and finally stops shaking enough so that he can drink the tea he ordered. It's almost cold now._

_Light is trying his best to make him comfortable in the situation. He doesn't understand why this date is so different than all their other meetings. Maybe it's because this is more serious; it can lead them into something. He laughs a little when Light makes a funny face, really appreciating his dedication to make this a successful date._

'_You're pretty when you smile.'_

**xxx**

He's in bed when they come to visit him. He immediately knows that something is wrong. He hurries to Light's side, sitting down next to him and searching his face for any sign of anything.

'Light. Light?'

'Yeah?' comes the muffled reply. He's lying with his face pressed against the pillow; it's a wonder he hasn't suffocated. When he looks up, his eyes are coated with a foggy daze.

'You came.'

'Of course. Light, Mello and Matt are here to see you, too.'

It seems to take Light a while to comprehend what he's saying, but eventually he does, because he lifts his head, searching.

'Hey, kiddo.' Mello sits down on the chair next to the bed, spreading out as usual and acting casually, though he can see that's an effort.

'Hi.' He still sounds weak.

'How are you holding up?'

'I'm okay. Where's Matt?'

'I'm right here, buddy.' Matt comes into view, waving, goofy smile on his lips. Light laughs a little, but then he sinks back into the pillows, exhausted.

'Feel sick…' he mumbles.

'Light, what's wrong?'

Suddenly, there is a trail of red slowly making its way down from Light's nose, it runs over his lips and then onto the pillow. Blood. Light is bleeding.

He panics.

'Light! Mello, get a nurse!'

'Don't worry, it's just a nosebleed…'

'Just go!'

'Alright, alright,' and he leaves.

In the meantime, he lifts Light up and into a sitting position. Then he lefts Light's body lean against his side, holding one hand behind his back while the other angles his head upwards to stop the bleeding.

Arisa comes in, paper towels in her hands.

'What happened?'

'He's bleeding… He just... He started bleeding…'

'Don't worry,' she says, and bends down to dry away the blood that's clogging on Light's upper lip. There is some blood on the side of his face too; from the blood on his pillow. She takes it all away, holding to fingers on his nose while pushing some of the paper up his nostrils to prevent further blood loss.

She looks at him, probably recognizing the worried stare.

'Don't worry, Light will be fine. Nosebleed is a typical side effect of Risperdal. It will disappear when he's been on the medicine for a few weeks.'

'Are you sure he's okay?'

His voice is shaking.

'Absolutely.'

'Okay.'

All the time, he can feel Matt and Mello's eyes burn into his back. When he looks at them, they look worried too.

Tough maybe they're not worried about Light.

**xxx**

_Kira… Doesn't it sound an awful lot like "killer"?_

'_Kira? Why should I call you that?'_

'_Because it's my name.'_

'_No, it's not. Light is your name, remember?'_

'_You're wrong.' Light's eyes are hard. 'Light was my old name; Kira is my new. You may not call me by a name that isn't mine.'_

'_Alright. Who is this Kira?'_

'_A god.' _

_A look at his worried face makes him smirk. He starts to chuckle, just softly at first but then he's laughing manically; he throws his head back and when he looks at him again he can see an evil glare in his eyes that weren't there before._

_He's so unsure about what to do. He can't go against him, he can't agree. So he settles for saying nothing, just listening to Light laughing with deer in the headlight eyes._

**xxx**

He's decided to meet up with Mai, probably against his better judgement. But she wouldn't stop calling, wouldn't stop asking if they could meet and talk and simply be. He's sitting inside a small café with large windows; he sits with his back against the wall, so that no one can walk past him without him knowing.

But she's late. Very late. He's just about to leave when she comes busting through the door, spotting him and half running towards him. She sits down, making a motion for him to sit down too. A frown paints his face; he doesn't like being ordered around, especially by someone who obviously can't keep their commitments.

'I'm so sorry,' she pants. 'I was caught in traffic.'

'That's okay.'

_No, it isn't._

'What did you want to meet me for?'

'Well, I thought that maybe we could just hang out for a while. It's been a long time since I went to a café.' She laughs a little.

'Okay.'

'What's wrong?' She leans forward, grabs his hand as it lies on the table. 'You look upset.'

The first thing he does is to remove his hand from her and place it in his lap. The other hand comes up to his face, and he starts to nervously bite on the soft skin of his thumb.

He does that a lot when he's agitated.

'I'm okay. How are you?'

_Diversion._

'Oh, I'm good, thank you. When I got up this morning I thought…'

And she goes on. She's annoyingly fond of talking about herself, but it gives him an excuse not to say anything. At some point, he stops listening, but he nods in agreement and says a few 'yes' or 'no' when he knows it's his time to speak before she continues.

It's not until three hours later that he's able to excuse himself, and so he leaves – just in time to go to visit Light. Maybe he'll be just a little late.

Maybe Light won't even notice.


	12. pt12

**Author's Note:**

Most part of this was written outside. I absolutely love the weather here.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note.

**xxx**

Light's been on Risperdal for two weeks now, and it's starting to show. He's vomiting, and it's nearly impossible to get contact with him; he's avoiding eyes, words. The Stilnoct is making him more tired than it's probably supposed too, so he's always exhausted.

Always.

And he visits every day. Apart from that one time, he's never late. He's always on time, and he always stays until Arisa tells him to leave. They usually spend the time in Light's bed; Light lying down, him sitting on the edge of the bed.

But today it's different.

He's sitting on the bed with the headboard in his back. Light is sitting in front of him, leaning against his chest. He can feel his heartbeat through their clothes. He's running his fingers through Light's soft hair. He knows by the way it falls that Light hasn't showered it quite some time now, but it doesn't bother him. So he just runs his fingers carefully through his hair, singing a song he heard on the radio the other day.

'I'll be your doctor, I'll be your cure. I'll be your medicine and more…'

He really can't sing, but Light doesn't seem to mind. Instead, he hums along, eyes closed and expression relaxed. He likes it this way, even though Light is so distant.

It could be worse.

**xxx**

_Finishing at the coffee shop, they stroll around aimlessly, not really thinking about where they're going but wanting to keep walking as an excuse to make this date last just a little bit longer. The speed of his heartbeats increases when Light takes his hand in his. His skin is so smooth, so warm, so welcoming. He doesn't want to let go. Ever. _

_But eventually, he has too. It's getting dark, and they both need to head home. So they stop, turning towards each other, Light still holding his hand._

'_I had fun today'_

'_Me too. We should do it again someday.'_

'_Agreed. How about next weekend?'_

'_Sounds like a plan.'_

_He smiles, and he smiles even more when Light returns it._

**xxx**

Matt and Mello visits more often these days. They come by every two days or so, bringing him cake and other sweet treats, as well as healthy food that doesn't even touch; he doesn't go grocery shopping anymore. And they keep asking him about Light, about how he's doing and is the medication working yet. His answers are short; he can't talk about Light. He just wants to be with him in the hospital, not talk about him when he's not there. All he wants is to be by his side, he wishes the hospital could provide with an extra bed so that he could sleep there too.

'You need to work,' Mello says.

For once, Near has come to visit him too. He doesn't do that a lot, he's always busy with something else. He's got something big going on right now, but he still takes the time to go see him.

Though he suspects that it's Matt who's dragged him along.

'How are you holding up? Really?'

'I'm fine.'

_Stop asking._

'You don't look fine.' Matt is persistent. 'You've lost a lot of weight, haven't you?'

'No.'

Matt sighs, annoyed with his answers. He doesn't care.

'But seriously, dude, you have to work. You need to pay your bills.' Mello points towards the pile of unopened letters that lies on the floor next to the door. 'They're not going to pay themselves, man.'

'I know. I just… I know.'

'Listen', Matt says, patting his shoulder in a friendly gesture. 'We'll help you get started, okay?'

'I don't have time for this,' Near interrupts. 'I have to get going.'

'You're not going anywhere you douche,' Mello snarls. 'Be a friend and help him out!'

'Fine. Get your computer started. Then we'll go from there.'

He gets up, gets his laptop from the kitchen table and starts it up. While it's preparing all the files, he thinks about Light and wondering how he's doing; is he still zonked out from all the medicine they've put him on? He wishes he could be there right now.

**xxx**

'_Don't worry, love,' he says. 'I would never kill you. No, not ever.'_

_He strokes his cheek lovingly, but he can still see that evil glint in his eyes, and he knows that right now Light is a lost cause. But he won't give up._

'_Light, listen to me. I love you; please come back.' He tries his best to coax him back to reality._

'_I'm right here.'_

'_No, you're not. Light, listen to me. You're not Kira, you're not a god. You're Light, my Light.'_

'_Don't you dare…'_

_But he shuts him up. He presses harsh kisses on his mouth and his moving lips. He's gripping tight tighter, putting his all into the kiss as he hugs Light and watches as his eyes close._

_For a while, they just kiss. And when they stop, that spark of insanity is gone. Light is Light again, and he sighs with relief._

'_What's happening to me?' His voice is shaking._

'_I don't know, Light. I don't know.'_

_But it only last for a while. As soon as Light puts on the TV, he immediately turns into Kira again, writing name after name in the note book. _

_He doesn't dare to interrupt him, can't confront him again. There is no strength left._

**xxx**

He's getting skinnier by the day.

He eats and he purges; everything he swallows ends up in the toilet. He's not keeping any food at all. It feels so good when he stares at himself in the mirror and at his stomach that is getting smaller and smaller and at how his thighs don't touch each other anymore. His cheeks turning hollow, eyes getting blank when the dark circles that grow more prominent every day.

But sometimes it so hard. His still using his toothbrush to throw up, because his fingers don't work anymore. But he's bought a new toothbrush, so now he has two; one for brushing his teeth, one for purging. And every time he throws up, he hates himself. Hates that he can't control himself when he binges, hates how his hands shake when he's done.

He can't control himself anymore.

**xxx**

Lyrics from Cute Is What We Aim For – "Doctor"


	13. pt13

**Author's Note:**

I have a pink hairclip in my red hair. It looks awful, but I don't really care. I look like shit today. I have purple socks, too. Interesting, huh?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note.

**xxx**

'Light seems to be developing a depression,' Watari says.

'A depression? I thought you said he was schizophrenic?'

'Yes, but the worst part of his period is over. Depression is usually present in all psychological problem, so it's not really a surprise that he has it. We'll be putting him on Cipramil, to help him get better.'

'Okay. And the side effects?'

'You shouldn't worry about that right now.'

**xxx**

He takes a hold of a chocolate chip cookie, gently holding it between his thumb and forefinger. Slowly, he brings it towards his mouth, stopping only for a brief second to let it linger on his lips. Then he opens his mouth, welcoming the treat in a very foreboding way. He chews it carefully, until it turns into complete much; only then does he swallow it. He repeats the same procedure countless times more, until the entire packet of cookies is empty.

He opened it only minutes ago.

Searching, his eyes stray over the opened cupboards, trying to find something that will ease the hunger, something that will ease the sickness. When his eyes linger on the box of truffles Matt gave him last week, he makes up his mind. Standing up, walking towards the creamy chocolate candy. Impatiently he tears the bow open, putting two or three pieces in his mouth at the same time; he barely has time to chew and swallow before another candy is inserted.

Finishing the box, he walks towards the fridge, taking out the vanilla ice-cream. He covers it with chocolate sauce, sprinkles and strawberries. This is his favourite, and he indulges shamelessly in four portions before he stops. Then it's the cupcakes turn; he eats three four five of them, licking the frosting off his lip and the corner of his mouth when he's done.

He opens two more packages of cookies; different ones this time, but he doesn't really taste them, they run down his throat so easily. He takes two more potions of ice-cream. The only thing left is fruit, but he eats that as well. Apples, pears, bananas, grapes. He can't tell the difference.

He stands up. His stomach churns uncomfortably when he walks, but he just _has_ to see. He walks until he's facing the mirror; standing in front of it, he slowly lifts his shirt up, studying the way his stomach looks. It's big, swollen. He almost looks pregnant. He runs his fingers along it's contour, over his navel and the stretched skin there. It's aching. Inside and outside, he's aching. Aching for a moment of peace, for an end for this hell, for a chance to stop. But most of all, he's aching for Light. He's been gone for so long. Tears starts to form in his eyes, and he doesn't have it in him to stop them as they spill over the edge of his eyes and travels down his face. They taste salty when they reaches his lips.

He steps closer to the mirror, until all he sees is his eyes. They're dark. Too dark, even. Like charcoal. He thinks of Light's eyes. The brown colour, almost golden, his thick lashes surrounding it. So beautiful. He focuses on his own eyes again. His stare is blank, like he's not really there. They look empty.

Hollow.

Having had enough of the sight of his distorted body, he turns and walks to the bathroom. Closing the door and locking it, not really needing too but it feels more private when it's closed and no one can get in. He doesn't look in the mirror that hangs on the wall; he knows what he'll see.

First he takes a hold of the toothbrush standing in a cup on the washbasin, then he kneels over the toilet, he knees on the hard floor. His heart is racing in anticipation while he's body is shaking with fear. He takes a deep breath, and then he does it.

Pushing the toothbrush past his lips and his teeth, it prods the back of his throat and then he pushes it down down down until his body lurches and forces his head further into the toilet. At first there is nothing, he keeps dry retching but he doesn't give up. He knows that it will come.

And then, it does. He feels the familiar pulling in his stomach and up to his throat, and he throws up and he can feel it when it leaves his body through his mouth and his nose. Ha can smell it when he breathes in, coughing when some of the vomit is accidentally breathed down into his lung.

He repeats the action, over and over. More purging, more coughing. Then, there is no food left in his stomach. He can feel it when he sticks his fingers down his throat just to test, and he dry retches again, nothing but bile coming up. He keeps prodding and pushing, but there is nothing left that will leave. But he keeps going, until his mouth starts to puke up thick strings of blood.

Only then does he stop.

**xxx**

_They keep dating. It's almost a secret; neither of them has told anyone. He likes it that way; he's sharing something with another person (and that has not happened before), and it's all theirs, it only belongs to them._

_They would go to the movies, only to share quiet kisses in the dark. They would walk through a park, stopping and hiding behind a tree, showing their appreciation of the other's closeness._

_Kiss after kiss; he indulges in it. In the kisses and the hugs, the little love notes that Light always leaves in his pocket before they separate. He, in return, always leaves a piece of his favourite candy in the pocket of Light's coat. He knows that Light probably doesn't eat them, but his gesture seems appreciated enough. Light always smiles when he feels him reaching his slim fingers into his pocket._

**xxx**

'Light, calm down.'

'I _am_ calm!'

Light is angry. Angry, pissed off, furious. He's alone with him and he tries his best to stay calm as Light throws one of his biggest tantrums so far. Never before has he been so angry, so upset, so out of control.

'Light, just tell me what's wrong.'

'Everything is wrong, you idiot. I don't want to be here, I fucking hate it here and I hate you for forcing me to be here. I hate you. I fucking _hate_ you!'

He swallows thickly, trying not to let his tears show. He dries his eyes with the edge of his sleeve, discretely so that Light won't notice. But then again, maybe Light isn't paying enough attention to notice anything.

Everything he does screams anger.

**xxx**

'What's gotten into him?'

He stands outside the closed care wing with Arisa. Eventually Light calmed down enough to say goodbye when he left, but he was still upset. Something must have triggered it, but he has no idea what that would be.

'It's probably a side effect from the Cipramil. Unexplainable fury is a very common reaction to the medicine. Since he reacted so strongly to it, we'll have to keep him under constant surveillance from now on.

'Why? Is there another side effect that could happen to him.'

'Yes.'

'What is it?'

'Suicide.'


	14. pt14

**Author's Note:**

You have no idea how many times I've re-written this chapter – and I'm still not quite happy with it. So I might go back and change it at some point; just so you know.

(I got the t-shirt I ordered from PETA today; so happy.)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note.

**xxx**

He doesn't sleep much, but when he does, he dreams; it's always the same dream. His worst fear, Light leaving, Light disappearing, Light dying. And when he wakes up, he's sweating and crying, back wet and sticking to the sheets and his hair plastered to his face.

So he prefers not sleeping.

Instead, he keeps his mind busy, trying to solve all the cases he has neglected lately. It's not really that hard; he finishes off about one of them each night. His bills are paid and there is food in his fridge, but he's not happy.

He could never be happy, not without Light.

He does realize how unhealthy his obsession with Light is, how he can barely breathe when he's not there. But still, he can't help himself when he falls in love with him over and over, every time he sees him. Besides, he knows Light is obsessing too, even though he can't comprehend why.

And tonight, it's even worse. He absolutely can't fall asleep. Instead, he crouches in the sofa, rocking his body back and forth. Tears in his eyes, he can't get over it. Can't get over what happened.

_He hates me he hates me he hates me._

The more sensible part of his mind is telling him that it's only the medicines talking, but the other part of his mind is telling him differently. Obviously, something would have triggered Light's fury, and that something, or someone, was him.

Light got angry because of him.

He chokes on horror when he realizes the underlying meaning of it. Light hates him. Light doesn't want to be with him. Light is going to leave. It's just like his nightmare, exactly the same. He needs to calm down, he thinks. He needs to focus. What would make Light look at him with those eyes of anger?

He realizes straight away; his weight. Of course. Light finds him disgusting; that's the only reason. He immediately stands up, all but running to the toilet. He doesn't even lean down when he pushes the toothbrush down his throat.

**xxx**

They've put him off Cipramil, changing it to Cipralex. The side effects are less severe, Arisa says, only including increased appetite, exhaustion and dizziness. He couldn't care less. As long as Light is getting better, he doesn't care about what medication he's on.

'I'm sorry I yelled at you.'

He's feels like a heavy weight has been lifted of his shoulders. Light didn't mean it. He doesn't hate him, doesn't find him disgusting. It was the medicines talking, not him. He breathes out.

'It's okay; it wasn't your fault.'

'But still…' Light looks down, chewing on his bottom lip, regret in his eyes.

'Light, don't worry about it. It's okay, really.'

'Are you sure?'

'Positive.' He smiles. They're sitting on the bed, holding hands. Light is getting better, he notices. He's been on Cipralex for almost five weeks, and it's finally starting to work. Watari says that his schizophrenic period is almost over too, and that Light maybe, maybe, can leave the hospital soon. Or soonish, at least.

They're both thrilled.

'I can't wait to come home,' Light says, a dreamy look on his face. 'I've missed it so much. I've missed you so much.'

'I've missed you too. It's not the same when you're not there.'

'I bet.' Light laughs. It's lighthearted, happy. 'What have you been eating?'

'A little bit of everything.'

'I'm sure,' he winks. 'Well, as soon as I come home I'll cook you a _real _meal.'

'Thank you.'

But then, something in his eyes change.

'You're still throwing up, aren't you? You look so small.'

'Don't worry about me, Light.'

**xxx**

_They spend a lot of time in Light's __apartment__. They play games (chess mostly, but also strategy games like Risk), eat whatever Light has made for lunch or dinner, and they talk. That's what they do the most. They talk about everything; and he enjoys every minute of it._

_They kiss, too. They do that a lot. Innocent ones, not so innocent ones. He could get lost in the feeling of Light's lips kissing his, get lost in the feeling of Light's tongue and the way his hands holds a careful grip in his hair._

_And he likes it, all of it. He feel relaxed with Light, he feels at home. And that is probably the first time he's ever felt that way – he was always so maladjusted. Light is accepting him for who he is and what he does. He accepts his quirks and the negative aspects of his character._

'_So, I've waited long enough,' Light says one day. 'I have told you all there is to know about me, about my family and about my studies. Now it's your turn.' _

'_I already told you; I'm a detective.'_

'_Yes, I am aware of that. But who _are _you?'_

_He thinks for a moment. Should he tell? It's a big secret, only a few people know who he is and what he does. Finally, he decides that maybe Light should know. He's told him so much about himself, opening up his heart completely. And he wants it too. He wants him to know everything._

'_I am L.'_

**xxx**

Matt and Mello are visiting again. This time, they only brought real food, like fruit and vegetables. They knows he hates vegetables, but since they heard that Light is coming home, they decided to fill the fridge to the brink with food, so that Light will be able to feed him when he gets home.

'You have to be fattened,' Matt says and waves a finger in front of his face. 'You're way too small for your own good.'

They're helping him unpack the grocery bags, putting everything where it's supposed to be. Well, almost. Light will probably rearrange it when he gets home.

'Yeah, how much do you weigh these days, skeleton?'

He knows that they're just joking, but he feels offended. He doesn't want to be fattened, doesn't want to eat. And he most certainly doesn't look like a skeleton. He weighs 97lbs, and he hates it. He hates everything about it.

'It's not important.'

'Yes, it is.' Mello slams a bag of potatoes onto the table. 'Man, can't you see what's happening to you? You look like shit, like something out of a horror movie.'

'Thank you,' he says, voice thick with sarcasm.

'It's true, though,' Matt says carefully as he lights up a cigarette.

'You do realize that Light will kill you when he finds out that you've been smoking inside our apartment, don't you?'

'Yup.' He takes a deep drag, letting the smoke out through his noise. 'It's worth it.'

Mello snorts.

'If you say so.'

That's when his phone rings. He takes it out from his pocket delicately, holding it between his thumb and forefinger when he answers. Immediately, he wish he would have looked at the screen, seeing who it was that called.

'Hello, Mai here,' she chirps on the other end of the line. 'How are you?'

'I'm fine, thank you.' He pauses. 'What do you want?'

'Well, I thought that maybe you would like to give me company to a lecture about mental unhealth this afternoon. Are you interested?'

'I have work to do. Sorry.'

'Oh, okay.' She sounds strangely disappointed. 'Maybe some other time then.'

'Maybe.'

He hangs up. He can't deal with her right now, even though he wonders why she keeps calling. All he can think about it Light coming home.


	15. pt15

**Author's Note:**

This chapter might not be so good- I blame it on the fact that I'm having a fever; it may sound stupid to sit up and write when you're ill, but I need to write. It calms me down.

On another note, I've decided that I hate OC's. I wish I would have used more of the characters from Death Note than introducing new ones, but oh well. Maybe I'll rewrite the whole thing at some point, who knows.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note.

**xxx**

_He was so little, so confused, so alone. So empty. There was a hole in his chest, a void that emotions couldn't fill. Aching painfully, all he wanted was to find something that would ease the hurt._

_And it's been hurting for so long. Ever since his teenage years, he knew something was missing. Something inside of him that was supposed to be a part of him simply wasn't there. He felt incomplete, inaccurate, incorrect. For so long._

_Something else was wrong, too. His body was suddenly so large. He looked in horror as it grew and grew, fat gathering everywhere; his arms, his legs, his stomach. At night he laid awake, prodding and touching until it hurt. That's when he officially decided he hated his body. That's when he officially decided to change._

_It started as an experiment. He would eat a little bit more than usual, feel a little worse when he was done; all he needed to do was too eat until the empty hole was filled, too filled. Then he would tentatively push two fingers past his lips and the row of white teeth, back to the end of his tongue and when he lurched he would push even harder._

_He's still empty._

**xxx**

Light is coming home.

_Finally._

He's been cleaning frantically for the past two days. He's been vacuuming and taken care of the large mountain of dishes that stood on the kitchen sink. He got rid of all the dust, and he's thrown away all of the old newspapers that were gathering in front of the door, almost blocking his way out. Their apartment is shining.

It's early morning, and in eight hours Light will leave the hospital with him and then they will take the train home to their apartment, together. The sun is bright and it's shining right in his face through the bedroom window.

He's got sunshine in his veins.

**xxx**

_Light stares at him for a moment or two, as if he can't comprehend what was just said._

'_L?'_

'_Yes. L'_

'_L as in _the_ L?_

'_I guess you could say that.'_

_Light sits quite for a few minutes. Eyes darting between his eyes and the edge of the table, he looks awed and maybe a little bit frightened. Just as he begins to think that maybe telling Light about his secret wasn't such a good idea, Light looks up, ready to talk._

'_I cannot believe that I'm dating L.'_

'_Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?'_

'_It's a good thing. It's a huge thing. God, I wish I could tell someone.'_

Alarmed.

'_Please don't.'_

_Light laughs._

'_Don't worry; I won't.' He laughs again. 'I just can't believe this.'_

_He smiles a little, satisfied. Telling Light was a good idea._

**xxx**

'Hey man, it's so good to see you!' Mello gives Light a punch on the shoulder, probably not even noticing how Light wrinkles his noise in pain. 'How're you feeling?'

'I'm fine, thank you.'

_No, you're not. You're not fine, but you're better._

'Good, because we brought pizza.'

Matt enters the apartment too, carrying two boxes of pizza and a big can of Coca Cola. He walks straight into the kitchen, dumping it on the table and then shakes his hands.

'Damn, those were warm.'

'No shit, Sherlock?' Mello rolls his eyes. 'They were bakes two seconds after we ordered them. Of course they're hot.

They all laugh, Matt too. It feels like the old times, before everything went wrong. But he holds on to his sanity and tries to think about how stunning Light's smile is, tries to think about the soft dimples in his cheeks, how easy his hair falls into his face now that he's washed it. It falls into his eyes every now and then, and he flicks his head a little every time it does, and that's when he thinks about that Light will probably get his hair cut some time soon. He almost wishes he didn't, though. He looks beautiful this way.

'So,' Light says, turning towards Matt. 'How has he been?'

'Why don't you ask me directly?' He's a little offended.

'Because I know what you'll say. I need an honest response. Matt?'

Matt sighs, looks at him, and then sighs again.

'Well, he's been eating all the stuff we have brought, and he's been cleaning the apartment all on his own, so I guess that's good. He's been down, though. I guess he's been missing you more that anyone would have imagined.'

He can tell that Light knows he's not telling the entire truth. He seems to accept it though, flashing a weird look at Mello and getting an even weirder one back. He knows they will tell, eventually. Though Light already knows. So what's the point of hiding it?

The point is that he needs to convince himself that no one knows, just so that he can go on and continue to do it.

He's so ashamed.

**xxx**

In the middle of the night, in the protection of darkness, he commits his biggest sin all over again. He keeps quiet, choking his sounds when the content of his stomach leaves him in a rush. Light is asleep, and he intends to keep it that way; Light have to believe that he's not throwing up. Not tonight. Tonight he wants no one to know; he needs to get rid of the filthy pizza that is poisoning him.

Leaning over the toilet for the umpteenth time, he feels lighter and lighter every time his toothbrush scrapes the back of this throat. And it's so easy. So easy.

He takes a short break to breathe properly; he unconsciously holds his breath when he pukes. He thinks that maybe he should stop. He knows his body is taking damage; his teeth will begin to rot. But he votes against it. He can't stop now. Not when he's so close. He bends over again, doesn't even have to put the toothbrush all the way in before he purges.

He spits out blood, and then throws it up. He's hawking and gasping when the door handle is suddenly pressed down. He freezes completely, mortified.

'Oh, love.' Light whispers, walking in to the room quietly.

He rests his forehead in the edge of the porcelain seat, breathing in and out of his nose. This can't be happening. But yet, it is, and he doesn't know how to handle it.

Apparently, Light does. He walks up to him, sits down behind him and puts his hands on his shoulder, carefully turning him around.

'Look at me.'

And he looks. He feels horrible, caught in an unorthodox act. He still looks, can't help himself. Light looks horrified too, but determined. He arranges so that's his lying in his lap, not forcefully but softly, slowly. He puts his arms around him and kisses the top of his head.

'This has to stop.' He sounds like he's crying. 'We need to make it stop.'

He feels so small in Light's cradling arms, leaning into his protection like a needy child. Light's arms are warm and tender, and he's flushed and hurting but Light doesn't judge. He sits there and he doesn't say anything, just rocks him softly back and forth in his lap and strokes his forehead, telling him it'll be okay.

It will be okay.


	16. pt16

**Author's Note:**

Right, so I've rewritten parts of this chapter too. Like I said, it was half-hearted, but hopefully it's better now. I've just added some parts to it, and deleted a few. But to be honest, I'm still not sure if I like it. But yeah, here you go.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note.

**xxx**

'Let's take a walk.'

Light is up from the sofa and standing in front of the door and putting his shoes on before he even has time to register what was just said.

'Light, are you sure this is a good idea?'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, you've only been home for a few days. Maybe you should wait a little longer before you go outside. There are…'

'There are _what_?'

'There are so many things out there that could trigger you, and then we'd have to repeat the same procedure all over again with you going to the hospital. I don't want that, and I know you don't want it either.'

His logic is flawless, and Light knows it too. With a loud sigh, he takes off his shoes and walks back to the sofa, sitting down with his arms crossed. He's not happy.

'Light, I'm just worried.'

'I know.'

'Besides, it's late.'

'I know.'

'You don't look like you know.'

'I'm sick of talking about how we can't do things because it can make me feel worse. What about you? Why do we _never_ talk about you?'

_Why do you always have to bring me up? Can't we just leave it as it is? I don't want to talk…_

'There isn't much to say, Light, your condition…'

'Is what? My condition is worse?' he snarls. 'I don't think so. Your binge and purge all the time, how could that not be worse?'

_Please don't bring it up._

'I'm not the one who went to hospital, Light.'

'Maybe it should have been.'

**xxx**

'_Guess what.'_

'_What?'_

'_I've got the prettiest boyfriend on the face of the earth.'_

_Light laughs when he blushes._

_He still can't comprehend it, can't comprehend what Light could possibly see in him. With his slouched posture and his __asymmetric body, distorted beyond belief. How could Light possibly see anything in him when the fat dangles from every part of him when he walks? He's anything but pretty._

'_I believe that should me my line.'_

_For once, they're in his apartment. It's untidy but Light doesn't seem to mind; he inspects the place with interested eyes, as if he's taking in everything about it. He probably is._

_Light stops in the small space that he likes to call the living room. There is a big window on one wall, giving him a perfect view over the city. The apartment might be small, but anything it lacks is made up by that window and the landscape of buildings underneath it._

'_This is beautiful,' Light says. 'You should have told me you have that; we are going to spend a lot more time here from now on.'_

'_But it's not very tidy…' Now that is very true. His apartment is a mess, and even though he proudly calls it "organized chaos" he knows that that's only partly true – sometimes even he can't find what he's looking for._

_But maybe letting Light in is a good idea. Maybe if he can show him that he can be good enough too, Light won't leave him. But he's certain that he will. Maybe not now, but eventually. Eventually, he will come to realize the mistake he's making and he will go without even looking back._

'_Don't worry, I'll clean it up for you.' Light winks. 'It'll be sparkling once I'm done with it.'_

'_That's what I'm worried about; I won't be able to find anything,' he says behind the thumb that he __unconscious__ly brought up to his lips to chew on._

'_Of course you will, I'll just show you where I put everything. Deal?'_

_He ponders for a moment, a little scared about Light going through all his personal things (not that he have that many of them). But he decides._

'_Deal.'_

**xxx**

He stares at Light. He's so angry. Like the time when he said he hated him, only this time the anger is for real and it's his. For a short moment, it reminds of the days before Light was put in closed care, when he would throw tantrums like these once or twice every day. Every single day. And he felt so bad, so scared and so helpless. When Light punched him he would only sit quiet and take it; he deserved it anyway.

'How come it always has to be about me? About my life, my feelings, my problems. You never open up; how do you expect people to stay if you never let them in?'

He recoils like he just slapped him. Maybe he should press the issue so that Light would slap him for real, like he used to. He wants the feeling of Light's skin against his, no matter in what form.

'But you know what? I'm so tired of it, so tired of you. I've had enough of this bullshit.'

He turns around abruptly, he strides with anger towards the door.

'No, Light...'

'No, I'm not buying it anymore.' There is only exhaustion in his voice now, like he's given up. He watches in horror as Light opens the door and walks out, closing it with a heavy thud behind him as he leaves, and he stares at it for a few moments, inwardly telling himself that Light will come back.

But he doesn't.

It takes half an hour before he can move. Before he can even think. Then he's up on his feet and on his way out of the apartment faster than he'd ever been running towards the toilet in his binge.

'Light? Light!'

He calls, slowly and uncertain at first, but the further away he gets from their apartment the louder his cries get. Tears fill his eyes and he cries unashamed, searching desperately for the only thing that ever meant anything in his life.

He wanders around randomly, trying to figure out where Light would have gone. But he can't remember a single place that might have attracted Light's attention well enough for him to actually go there.

He's out for a couple of hours, maybe more. When he's too exhausted to walk anymore, too cold to keep going, he sits down on the ground, hugging his calves and rocking back and forth in agony. He bites on his thumb, hard, to ease the pain that is filling that hole, that empty space in his chest. He stays there for a while, on the sidewalk in the middle of the night. Eventually though, he stands up, walking back home in a haze, not really looking where he's going – every now and then tripping and scraping his knees or walking into bushes that plasters shallow cuts on his face and his hands.

He's almost about to give up when he stops outside the high rise building where their apartment lies, when he by accident lets his eyes tray towards the playground outside it. He gasps silently, seeing someone sitting alone on a swing. He knows immediately who it is.

It could only be one person.

_Has he been there the entire time?_

'Light!'


	17. pt17

**Author's Note:**

So, I've got something I need to share with all of you. My exams start next week, and I really need to study. So starting tomorrow and for an undecided time after that there will be no updates. I'm sorry, but I really need to focus on this; I'd hate to fail all my subjects. That would be an absolute disaster.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note.

**xxx**

'_You do realize that this is going to take forever, don't you?'_

_He stands in the door way, watching Light preparing himself for the "__thorough cleaning__" of his apartment. Light has decided that he will be doing all the work; all he has to do is watch and try to remember where Light puts everything. It sounds easy enough, but knowing Light, it probably isn't._

'_It doesn't matter. It'll be worth it.' _

_Light smiles, taking up one of the boxes he brought with him._

'_First, we're going to get rid of all the junk you have. This is where you come in; you have to tell me what it is that you want to keep.'_

'_And the catch is..?'_

'_If I still think it's junk, I'll throw it away anyway.'_

_He can't help laughing at that. But he nods and they start, from the hallway to the kitchen to the living room to the bed room to the toilet. Everything is looked at, judged and possibly thrown away; most of his things go._

_Three boxes later, they sit on the floor, taking a breather. They're having coffee and cake; Light brought it with him along with the boxes._

'_I do hope you have a vacuum cleaner. '_

'_As a matter of fact, I do.'_

_He sips on his scalding coffee, putting in an eighth sugar cube. Light makes a disgusted face; he only drink his coffee black. He tried to convince him at least try with sugar in it, or maybe just some milk, but to no avail. Light wouldn't budge._

_Vacuuming, dusting and organizing take all day; it's not until late evening that they're finishing. _

'_See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?' Light is beaming, looking proud of their accomplishment. _

'_I suppose not.'_

'_Come on, some enthusiasm, please. We did well.'_

_No, _you _did well. I hardly did anything.'_

'_You gave me mental support,' Light winks. 'That's good.'_

'_It's getting late,' he says, chewing lightly on his thumb._

'_Yeah, I kn… Oh shit!' Light looks at his watch. 'I've missed the last train.'_

_He looks at him, chewing harder. Then he makes up his mind, although nervously._

'_If you want to… You could always stay here?' It comes out as a question, though it probably shouldn't be. But he finds himself really wanting Light to stay._

'_Are you sure that's okay?'_

'_Yes, it is.'_

'_They I'll stay.'_

_Such a beautiful smile._

**xxx**

'Light!'

No answer, no reaction.

_Light Light Light Light Light._

He runs, clumsily and maybe just a little too fast for his feet to keep up, but he runs. Panting and with a ringing noise in his ears, he comes to an uncertain halt in front of the swing. In front of Light.

'Light.'

They are quiet for a while, him with his feet nervously digging holes into the sand, Light with a tight grip around the toils of the swing, so hard that his knuckles turns white. Well, at least he thinks so; it's too dark to actually see. But what he does see is Light tense body, and that should be answer enough.

'Please… Please don't leave.'

_Don't go; I can't do this on my own._

Silence. But then, he speaks.

'I won't.

Two words. Two words that bring him more happiness than any other long sentence has ever done. The relief is deafening. It's like he can't hear, can't see, can't do. All he is is those two words; it's all that exists for a few precious seconds.

'Let's go back inside,' Light says, takes his hand, squeezing it lightly. And he squeezes back, maybe a little too hard, but Light doesn't seem to care. They walk inside, taking the elevator up to the 7th floor and when they step inside the apartment, he all but throws himself into Light's arms, seeking comfort in their warmth.

And comfort he gets.

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry,' he sobs uncontrollably, hiding his face between Light's neck and shoulder, right above his collarbone.

'Me too. But we have to work our way through this. You _have_ to let me in.'

'I will. I promise. I will, I will.'

'Good. Thank you. But let's take care of that tomorrow. Let's just go to sleep.'

He's just about to follow Light in too the bedroom, when his stomach makes a loud, rumbling noise.

'You haven't eaten all day, have you?'

He thinks that maybe he should lie, tell Light that he took a sandwich at some point. But he knows it's useless. Light will find out eventually, and then he will get angry all over again. And maybe he would leave for good.

So he answers truthfully.

'No.'

'Then you have to eat first.'

'But I'm…'

'No. Just no. Trust me; it will be okay. I'll support you all the way.'

He nods, terrified but determined – he won't let Light down. Not again.

They walk into the kitchen, and Light turns on the stove.

'What do you want?'

'What do we have?'

They fall easily into old habits. This is exactly what used to happen; every day when Light got home from university he would ask him what he wanted, and he'd ask Light what they had.

'I'll just make something up then.'

Just like always.

**xxx**

_He throws up for the third time that day. All he can think about is his body, his shape, his fat. He pukes and then he's fine, for those few seconds that it lasts. And he thinks that it's all worth it. __It's all worth it._

_He wants to be pretty for Light._

**xxx**

He wakes up in the early morning, uneasily aware that something is wrong. Terribly wrong. Then he feels the shaking of the bed, the stickiness of the sheets.

_Light!_

He turns around, only to find Light crouched into fetal position, arms hugging calves desperately. Light is a mess of tears and inaudible noises, such a bad condition. He sits up, scooting over to Light's side of the bed, softly putting a hand on his shoulder. Immediately, Light's hand reaches up and grabs his in a painful grip. He doesn't let go.

'Light, what's wrong?' He tries to keep his voice even, but it's so hard and his fright is leaking through. And Light is shaking in agony, the anxiety too much, suffocating. So he lies down behind Light's back, hugging him close, whispering comforting words and trying to be the support Light needs.

It's important to remember that Light is still far from healthy, and he scolds himself for forgetting it. He needs to be supportive and calm, aware and strong. And he promises himself, promises Light, that he will be all that.

He will.


	18. pt18

**Author's Note:**

When I started writing this, I intended to make it clean (well, at least fairly clean). But that had to change. Why? Because I'm a dirty pervert and I can't seem help myself. From now on, the genre of his story will be **romance/hurt/comfort**. I hope you all know what that means and if you don't, you're in for a surprise.

Next update will probably take some time to put up. I've got some personal things that need to be taken care of; I hope you all have patience with me. Thank you.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note.

**xxx**

They eat the same food now, and he's gained weight. Too much for his own liking, but Light seems happy. So he keeps gaining, reaching the staggering number of 107lbs before he finally gives in and purges; Light standing behind him with a hand on his shoulder, silently.

'I can't do this. I can't.'

'Yes, you can. You've been doing so well.'

'But I can't. I can't.'

He cries and his tears fall into the toilet and mixes with the vomit. Light crouched behind him, leaning his head back as he flushes the toilet, and then he lets his limp body lean against his warm chest. They stay like that for a while, Light only moving to straighten his legs out. He strokes his sweaty forehead and mumbles quietly in his ears.

'You can do this. I know you can.'

**xxx**

_They're having a late night snack. All the tidying should have made them exhausted, but the thrill of spending more time with each other than ever before weighs it up. So here they are, sitting on the living room floor and looking out through the big window as if the scene playing out outside of it was a movie._

'_Why do you live here?'_

'_What do you mean?'_

'_Well, you are the world's most famous detective; you should have loads of money. At yet you live here, in this… This…'_

'_This shithole?'_

_Light laughs._

'_Exactly.'_

'_Well,' he starts, not really knowing how to explain it. 'I like to keep a low profile. I don't like people knowing who or where I am. Living in a huge house with servants at three limos wouldn't be very much of a hiding place, now would it?' Just after saying it, he thinks that it might have been a bad way to describe it; maybe it didn't really explain anything._

_But it did._

'_No, that's true. But why _here_?'_

'_I liked the window.'_

'_You liked the window?'_

'_Yes.'_

'_What kind of reason is that?'_

_But Light isn't angry. There is a playful curiosity sound in his voice, and he loves how there is a smile that Light is struggling to keep away from his lips._

'_A very valid one.'_

_They laugh together, maybe not so loudly, but a gentle chuckle that feels natural and mutual. When both of their hands reach out for the same strawberry in the bowl of fruit in between them their hands accidentally touches, Light grabs his before he has a change to react._

_He likes it that way._

_Light uses his other hand to explore the fingers and the palm of his hand. His fingers are soft, smooth, warm; he likes the way they travel lightly along his hand and his wrist._

'_I really care about you, you know.' Light mumbles quietly. His fingers have stopped their exploring, now laying lightly against his own fingers._

'_I know. You know I…'_

_He doesn't get any further than that. Light leans forward, pressing his lips against his in a way that is almost desperate. He takes a secure hold of Light's hand, holding it tightly while kissing him back. He gets lost in the feeling of Light's lips, the way he feels and tastes and how incredibly lucky he was when Light decided to sit next to him on the train that day._

_If he had to choose on life-changing experience, that would be it._

_He's brought back when Light moves closer and puts his free hand around his neck, fingers softly running through his hair, nails scraping gently against his skin in a way that makes him shiver. So he leans closer too, his own fingers carefully exploring the skin of Light's face, that skin that is just a smooth as it looks from afar and even closer. _

_His heart pounds furiously when Light's hand strays from his head and instead makes its way to the edge of his shirt, silently and carefully pulling it upwards._

_A quiet question._

**xxx**

It's a sunny day. Light convinces him that they should go to the park and have a picnic, and when Mello and Mall finds out they want to join too. And by some magical miracle, even Near agrees to come with them when they ask him.

The air feels light, and he takes deep breaths, trying to get rid of the now constant stench that comes with throwing up. It works quite well, and with Light holding his hand in such a loving way it feels even easier to hold up and hold on.

They settle for a spot in the middle of the park. The grass is green, just like in the movies, too good to be true. There is a tree next to them, which he settles himself underneath; his skin is so sensitive. The other joins him, and they pack up what they brought with them.

But something is off.

He can feel it, but he can't put his finger on it. Light is acting strangely but he can't tell in what way. The way he moves, the way he talks, the way he looks? He can't decide, can't detect. And Light is so loving and so caring, so… Normal. There should be nothing to worry about, but yet he does.

Then they start eating, and he all but forgets Light and everything that's around him. He tries so hard to hide what a struggle there is for him not to stuff his face with food; he could easily have finished the whole picnic by himself in about half an hour. He eats slowly, eats a little at a time. When Matt finishes his apple and takes out a cigarette, he takes a cookie. When Near puts down his sandwich he picks up some strawberries. And he continues that way, following and copying what they do and how they eat.

After an hour, it doesn't work anymore.

With a quiet scream to Light through his eyes, he excuses himself and says he needs to go to the toilet. As soon as the rest of them are out of sight, he runs. When he reaches the toilets, he stands behind one of them and push his fingers down his throat forcefully. It's the sudden intruding that makes him purge, again and again, and he cries, again, because he's so ashamed.

_Please help._

When he feels a hand stroking his back, he leans back against the wall and looks at Light. And that's when he sees it.

_His eyes._

'We need to leave.'

_No._

'Light, have you been taking your medication?'

'I said we need to_ leave_. Something's going to happen, soon.'

'Light, we don't have to go anywhere. Who says…'

'Ryuk.'


	19. pt19

**Author's Note:**

I haven't updated in forever, I know. And I'm sorry, really. But as I have stated before (numerous times, even), I have to prioritize. Life is taking over my life (you know?) and things needed to be taken care of, thus I had no time to write. Pitiful excuse over with, let's continue.

This really is a half-arsed chapter, but I had to get something out because I _need to get started_ with this again. Truth be told, I had to re-read all the previous chapters before I wrote this one, because I couldn't remember where I was heading. Maybe I'll go back and change or just simply re-write the whole thing at some point but for now, it will do. I think.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death note.

**xxx**

He's in the shower, sitting on the floor and letting the water beat every ounce of hope left out of his thinning body. Light has been gone for three days and two nights, now locked away in a "safe place" where he won't "hurt himself or others around him".

Light would never hurt anyone.

He can't feel the tears as they make their way down his cheeks; his face already covered in water that goes from being icy cold to scalding hot in intervals, leaving his body confused and hurting. Just like his mind. He's been in the shower for quite some time now, losing count of the minutes as they passed by outside the glass doors. And it doesn't really matter, anyway. None of it does.

His eyes sting a little when he puts shampoo (Light's shampoo) in his hair for the umpteenth time, just so that he can smell it and imagine Light standing next to him, brushing the wet strands of his hair out of his face. The soft scrape of his nails behind his ear.

**xxx**

'_Light…'_

_His voice barely a whisper, more like a breath, ghosting. He's on his back with the cool floor slowly warming up while his body gets hotter and hotter. Light is on his side, lying beside him, tracing little patterns on the skin of his chest as it heaves up and down when he breathes. His fingers are so soft, so warm, they're burning. He follows them, follows Light's hand, with a wide-eyed look that closes only when Light slowly reaches his hand inside his worn jeans._

_His brain is shutting down, feeling taking over as he works him, as Light works him and places kisses on his cheek, since his neck arches when he moans quietly and forces away his mouth from Light's. There's a feeling in his gut, it's warm and getting warmer, stretching down down down and when he's so close he can almost taste it he suddenly recoils and crawls backwards._

_So sucked into the realm of emotion, so close to what he fears. Feelings. They betray him; his heavy breathing, his unshielded eyes, his trembling body. And it's all there for Light to see. He looks down at his lap where his want is evident, can't take his eyes away from it when the image of Light's hand _right down there_ keeps re-appearing in his mind._

_He tries to steady himself. Shallow breaths grow deeper and controlled, and when he finally looks at Light again, he's stoic. At least he tries to convince himself that that's the case._

_But Light looks calm. A soft smile on his lips, hand still in the air, hovering where his lower body was laying just a few moments ago. A small movement of his fingers._

_Come._

_And he can't help but obey when he's so tempting. He makes his way back, slowly, carefully, eyes suspicious but he already knows that he will give in, because that's the way it has always and will always be with Light. He is drawn to him, in every possible way, close to lost when he's around but still the only moment when he feels like home. Light is home._

**xxx**

'Light will be discharged tomorrow.'

He stares at Watari, at the friendly old face with the concerned wrinkles and white moustache.

'Is he better?'

'No.'

'Then why?'

Watari sighs, folding his hands together on the polished surface of his desk.

'We have a few incoming patients and there is not enough beds for them. Therefore, we have to discharge those who are most likely to be able to recover in their own homes.'

Eyes meet.

'Light is one of those. He needs to keep taking his medication, and if you were able to stay home and make sure he does then he should be improving fairly quickly. Could you do that?'

Could he? Of course. It's not like he doesn't do all his work from home anyway.

'Yes.'

'Good. Then you can pick him up tomorrow at noon. Now, why don't you go and tell Light? I'm sure he will be pleased to hear that he's going home.'

**xxx**

It takes a few days, maybe a week or so, before Light is back to normal with his medicines. At first, there is only confusion and sleep and anger, but as his body slowly gets used to the drugs he calms down, acting almost like he used to.

Almost.

He has to check him. At all times. Has to make sure Light takes his medication two times a day, has to make sure he doesn't spit them out when he turns his back and leaves him alone. Not that he does that a lot, but still. Light is tricky and sometimes he's being difficult; two times already he had to go back to the pharmacy to buy new medication, since Light flushed what was left down the toilet. It's not an easy job, but he puts up with it – for Light.

His work has begun to suffer. But when Light finally starts to take interest in catching up what he's missed from his university classes (which is, admittedly, a lot), he gets a chance to get what has been piling up done. They're easy cases, mostly, only taking a day or two to solve. He works through the files, front to back, while Light sits with his nose buried in the class notes his teachers have been kind enough to send him. He isn't surprised about this, though. Its common knowledge that Light is a favourite, a straight-A student with ambition enough to last for a lifetime and maybe even more. They're only happy to help out.

But today, Light isn't studying. They're sitting on the floor in front of the big window; him balancing on the balls of his feet with his knees tucked gently against his chest, Light leaning on his hands as they are stretched out behind him, legs sprawled comfortably on the floor. It's early morning, and from the moment they woke up it was evident that there would be nothing productive done today. So they're simply enjoying a cup of coffee, watching the sun as it rises almost unwillingly, as if it was reluctant to graze the earth with its presence.

'I want to visit your parents,' Light says suddenly, and he almost chokes on his mouthful of coffee because Light has never expressed such wish before.

'They're dead,' he answers, silently wondering if maybe the medicines are causing Light to lose his memory. It wouldn't surprise him, considering what they've done with him so far.

'I know.'

Apparently not.

'I suppose.'

Silence. Then Light stands up, running a hand through his hair and straightening out his somewhat wrinkled shirt.

'Then let's go.'


	20. pt20

**Author's Note:**

I know. The update is late. Again. Sorry?

I think I need to mention something here, and it's probably quite vital. I know _nothing _about what Japanese graveyards look like, or how the Japanese people honor their dead. But this is my Death Note universe, and therefore it looks exactly like the way I've described it. Okay? Good, just thought we should clear that out so that no one gets confused.

Not a very happy chapter, this one. It was kinda supposed to be, but then I just… Nah. It turned out the way it did, and it shall stay that way until I say otherwise.

(Yeah, I'm gonna stop babbling now.)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note

**xxx**

Skye blue, early morning air still chilly and fog laying like a floating carpet over the grass and the dirt road. They walk close, hands nearly touching but not just quite, the space between them is a little thick for reasons he does not want to dwell over.

_Maybe this wasn't such a good idea._

Light has never been here before. And he's rarely here, either. Once a year at the most, he sees no meaning with clinging to the past, desperately clutching and trying to preserve something that will never be again. The graveyard is only a ten minute journey with the train from their apartment, which in some ways makes it an even more unappealing place to travel to. But travel they do, taking the 06:47 train and arriving just in time for the gates to open for whatever visitors that might drop by.

And not many do.

The place was old when his parents were buried, even older now as he lets his gaze travel soundlessly over the rows and rows of grey headstones and withering flowers. Light is tense by his side, grasping lightly at the edge of his sleeve, seeking comfort in the sudden discomfort of his surroundings and it hits him that Light is probably not very used to this. As far as he knows, the people closest related to him are still alive and there has been no reason for him to visit a place like this quite this way before.

Light holds a bouquet of white roses in his hand, fingers playing nervously over the sharp edges of the darkened thorns as his gaze travels, too.

He bites down on the sudden urge to try and change Light's mind about this, instead taking a secure grip of the hand that is still toying with his shirt with trembling fingers and starts walking. He's got the path memorized, doesn't take him long to find the decayed stone with the carved names of his passed parents where they lay buried in the earth as they have been for so many years now. The engraving on the tomb can barely be read anymore, the surface covered with cracks and dried moss but Light kneels before it anyway, delicate hands no longer shaking when he puts the roses on the ground.

'Hi,' he whispers.

He stays silent. The only reason they're here is because Light wanted to go, because Light suddenly decided that this was something they needed to do; that he needed to do. So he stands just a few feet behind him, arms crossed over his chest to warm himself up as the wind ruffles his clothing and Light places his hands over the spot where their heads would have been had they not rotten away long ago and starts talking. Soft words flowing from softer lips, a hushed conversation he can't really follow.

And they stay like that for a while, Light still kneeling and him still standing, following the path of a few stray clouds as they slowly make their way across the brightening skyline. But when Light chokes on his words and sobs he's right there crouching behind him, a hand on a shoulder as it shakes.

'Thank you.'

Then Light stands up, a quick movement with the back of his hand sweeping the tears away and then he turns around, smiling a little. He seems relieved, somehow. Like a burden had been lifted off of his shoulders.

'Would you like to say something?' he asks quietly.

'Like what?'

_Apathy._

'I don't know. They're your parents. Isn't there anything you'd like to tell them?'

'You know they died when I was young, Light. I don't even remember them that well.'

Light's brow furrows, but then the muscles of his face relaxes and he looks at him with something akin to understanding as he brushes his knuckles over his cheek, from his temple to his chin.

'It's okay. We can come back another time.'

They start walking back, their steps almost soundless apart from the gentle scrunching of the dirt beneath their feet as they follow the road back to the gate.

He stops, suddenly. Light stops, too, turning around to gaze at him questioningly.

'You thanked them.'

Light is silent for a while, chewing slightly on his bottom lip, his eyes never wandering when they stare into his.

'Yes,' he says, beckoning him with his hand to keep moving, to come closer.

'What for?'

Brown eyes burning.

'For you.'

**xxx**

When he looks at himself through the mirror, really looking for the first time in weeks, he feels like killing himself. There is flesh, fat, everywhere and he wants to take a knife from the kitchen and cut it all off, butcher himself until his pale skin is hugging his bones snuggly. There has never been a feeling as strong as that of his self-hatred; not even his love for Light can compare in intensity. So strong, it's suffocating and he doesn't take the shower he intended to take because he can't stand the thought of seeing his naked body, feeling it, touching it.

He feels like killing himself.

**xxx**

Time has passed, and slowly, things are returning to normal. Or as normal as things ever were. He's working and Light is back at university, only part-time but still. Light takes all his medications and he eats three meals a day, without a fuss.

Well, almost. He tries his best, he really does, but it's so hard. So unbelievingly difficult to chew and swallow and keep it down.

**xxx**

'I'll be away for the most part of next week,' Light announces during dinner. Chewing thoughtfully on his mouthful of rice he looks at the ceiling, completely missing the flash of horror crossing his features.

_What? Wait, no. No. You can't go. Can't leave. I need you._

'And why is that?' he says instead, voice merely monotone and uninterested and his eyes settles to stare at the stretched skin of Light's knuckles as his hand clench on the table and then unclenches so quickly he's not even sure it actually happened.

'Field trip,' he says, cocking his head to one side and looking at him through the soft strands of hair that falls in his face when he does so. 'With my class,' he adds, as if he doubts that he would reach that conclusion by himself. Insulting.

'I see.'

Light is becoming increasingly arrogant. About everything, really. Scoffing and waving his hands dismissively, ever since that trip to his parent's resting place he's been distancing himself a little at the time, until he woke up one morning and realized that Light was suddenly so untouchable. So obsessed with his weight, with his food, with the numbers on the scale and the way they kept increasing, he didn't even noticed Light slipping away.

But it's all so evident, etched across Light's handsome face and crystal clear in his eyes when he smirks faintly before hiding the action behind the rim of his glass of water, almost as if someone had whispered something funny in his ear.

Something that he is painfully aware of not hearing.


	21. pt21

**Author's Note:**

I think the time has come for me to tell you this, in case you haven't already guessed, that is; I am a Death Note junkie. And I don't mean that in a (relatively) normal otaku way – this is seriously an addiction that is creeping into everything I do these days. I have a few statements of fact to prove this:

1. I have all the books of the manga, complete with an extra copy of Volume 13.

2. I also own several other books involving Death Note: _Another Note - The Los Angeles BB__ Murder Cases_, _L Change the World_, _L File No.15_ and the artwork book _Blanc et Noir_, which is a collection of drawings made by Obata Takeshi.

3. In addition to this, I have the entire anime on DVD, including _Relight: Visions of a God_, _Relight2: L's Successors_, and the three live-action movies; _Death Note_, _Death Note2: The Last Name_ and_ Death Note: L Change the World_.

4. I spend at least three hours a day in front of my computer, writing or reading Death Note related fanfiction.

5. I think about Death Note constantly. When in school, all it takes is a tiny spark of inspiration and I will immediately drop whatever it is that I'm doing in order to jot down what I just came up with. That happens alarmingly often, actually, I can't count on my fingers and toes how many times my teacher has snapped me out of my Death Note infested imagination.

And if that wasn't enough; I rarely ever read the books or watch the movies, to be honest I almost never even touch them, because I'm afraid that they'll be worn out and break.  
>Now <em>that<em>, ladies and gentlemen, is what you would call pathetic.

BUT!

In all honesty, I wouldn't have it any other way. I love how Death Note is so deep and how it challenges me as a reader/viewer to think and question my own beliefs. I love how I get a spaz attack every time I see that a new story has been uploaded, or an old story updated, in the Death Note fandom and I _love _that warm, fuzzy feeling of pure happiness I get when someone reviews my stories, add me to their favourites or to their alert-lists.  
>All of you, every single of you – thank you so much.<p>

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note

**xxx**

_At first he had been nervous, so uncertain and tentative, twitchy to the first touches and easy to recoil, but Light was so sure and so patient, so hungry and his eyes were burning, and now that the original idea had been introduced and accepted, he found that things escalated rather rapidly from there._

**xxx**

'I'll be leaving now.'

He hears the thud when the bottom of the small suitcase hits the floor as Light sets it down to tie his shoes. He hears the rustling of cloth as a jacket is removed from its hanger and draped over arms and back and layers of clothing and he knows without seeing that Light is buttoning up his raincoat slowly, carefully, because it's raining outside and because he needs that extra time to mentally prepare himself before facing the world.

He knows this, even though Light tells him that isn't true. He knows this, because he feels the exact same way.

'Goodbye,' he says just before the door opens and closes quickly, as if Light had to hurry out before he could change his mind. And he has; many times, too. Thinking, planning something but what he doesn't know. Light's class is going to see a trial, it's not mandatory for him to attend, but there is no way he would miss it and he knows this – still he can't help but wish that maybe, just maybe this once, Light would curb his insatiable thirst for knowledge and stay at home.

At home with him.

**xxx**

He manages alright for the first two days. But then everything suddenly goes so horribly, horribly wrong. It all starts when the beep of his phone wakes him up in the middle of the night. Eyes blurry, he snaps it open and holds the screen close, his eyes almost crossing but still he can't see. He reaches blindly upwards, searching for a while before finding the light switch and turning the lamp on.

_Do you know Gods of Death love apples?_

It makes absolutely no sense at all. At first he stares at it, just stares. Reading those words, that one sentence, over and over again while he gets colder and colder and starts to shake and can't stop. Because those words, that one sentence, seems like a death sentence, for him and for Light. Evidence of Light's loss of control and his lack of attention, black on white that Light crossed the line and isn't coming back.

Throwing the opened phone on the floor, not caring if it breaks, he yanks the covers off of him and stands, momentarily halting as his brain tries to catch up with the intentions of his body.

And then, he snaps. He breaks. There is a deafening roaring in his head that echoes the scream he heaves out of his lungs but can't really hear, hands clutching painfully at fistfuls of hair as he is forced to bend over by the sheer force of his emotions. His knees hurt when they hit the floor and then his forehead hurts to when it joins them, and he screams and screams until he chokes on the sound of it and falls on his side, hands still pressed tightly to his head.

At that point, his thoughts falters and then his mind stops working all together. Standing up, he scrambles towards the kitchen, one hand letting go of his head to reach out and support him against the walls while he stumbles. He comes to an abrupt stop in the middle of the kitchen, wide eyes that aren't really looking all over the place as they search for relief.

He steps forward to the closest cabinet, arms reaching out and hands pulling violently at the handle so it opens and then he is eating, devouring, frenzied, unaware. Everything that is edible he swallows as his body swallows him and throws him mercilessly and unforgivingly face first into a binge that doesn't stop until there is nothing left but his swollen, aching stomach.

Then he is in the bathroom, where he kneels weakly over the toilet and purges with two fingers down his throat while his tears falls freely and he cries, coughing and with his shoulders shaking as he sobs. Again with the bile and the blood, he nearly faints once it is over and when he finally reconnects with his brain again he wishes that he did.

But he doesn't. Instead, he manages to crawl back into the bedroom and find his phone, which is surprisingly whole and still functioning, and he pushes the number one and holds the device to his ear.

He's got Light on speed-dial.

He waits. And waits. The beeping is dull in his ear and he lies on the floor with one cheek pressed against the carpet and the phone resting on his other so that his hands are free to fall numbly to the ground and stay there. He doesn't move. And then Light answers, his voice quiet and slightly slurred by sleep.

'Light…'

He doesn't know what to say, how to explain it, so he says his name over and over until it's only a mere whisper.

'What do you want? Do you know what time it is?'

His voice is poison and he winces and then he starts to babble, words leaving his mouth before he can even think up whole sentences.

'You texted me-'

'No, I didn't.'

'-and you said, and I didn't know, Light, I couldn't, and I went to, and I… and I…' he curls into himself and puts a hand over his mouth, biting the skin of his palm to stop the flow of words, to stop his lips from betraying him.

And Light. Light changes, so suddenly.

'What are you talking about? I didn't text you.' Voice worried now, low and concerned.

'Yes, you did. You did.'

'But I've been asleep; how could I have texted you?' Confused, too.

'You texted me. You texted me and you said… Said, and I… Oh god, oh…'

'Hey, hey, calm down. Breathe. Slowly, there you go.'

'Please come back. Please, please, please.'

'You know I can't, I have to-'

'Please, please.'

'-I can't. I'm sorry, I can't. We're taking the train home in three days, just hold on.'

'But I can't, I-'

'Yes, you can. You will. For me. Hold on, just wait, I'll be home in three days. Just wait.'

'Okay.'

Then Light is gone, the line disconnecting when the battery on his phone dies but he can't find it in him to care or stand up and find the charger so that he can call Light again. He stays where he is, the only movement is that of his chest as he breathes and that of his eyelids as they flutter close. He's spent, worn, tired.

So tired.

**xxx**

**Author's Note: **I know both L and Light are_ extremely _out of character in this story, and I sincerely apologize for that, but they have to be in order for this to work. If they were to be as abnormally controlled and sane (although that could be debatable) as they are in the manga and anime, this whole idea would have been impossible and I would have nothing to write about. So therefore, they are changed. Weaker, more like us mere mortals, if you wish. Purely for my own entertainment. And yours too, perhaps.

Anyway; please bear with me.


	22. pt22

**Author's Note:**

I was debating back and forth with myself whether or not I should post this chapter. The thing is that it could have been... Well, more, but I wasn't sure how to continue things without making it too "ugh". So I stopped writing and decided to post this even though it could probably have been better, but I wanted to abandon it in favor of writing chapter 23 (I cannot believe this story is now _twenty-two chapters long_). Give you the opportunity of a break from blatant, brutal OOC-ness and give me a chance to get back on top of things before this spins completely out of control.

Okay?

I had a quick read through what I've posted here so far and I realize that I have quite a few loose ends to tie up, and soon. Things can only be delayed for so long, unfortunately. So I'll be getting to that next. Things will be cleared up and some will be demolished because I want them gone. But first, I'm going to get myself inspired, and there is absolutely no better way to do that than to read other fanfictions. Bonsoir, mes chers.

(Good god, these long author's notes have to stop.)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note.

**xxx**

He spends his days in a daze, working on some of the cases that, once again, have started piling up but he's barely aware of what he's doing. His brain is on autopilot, he reads and he solves and it's all correct but he isn't _there_.

And that is painfully obvious when Mello comes over to visit, breaking his isolation. He's just about to offer Mello something to drink or eat, when he remembers that there is nothing to offer. Everything was swallowed down and he hasn't bothered going to the supermarket to refill. In all honesty, it hasn't even crossed his mind. So, no food. And Mello notices.

'Why is there no food here?' he asks suspiciously while he studies the empty fridge with a frown on his face.

He doesn't answer.

'Did you binge again?'

_How does he know? _He doesn't answer that either, just looking out the kitchen window with a detached expression. He thinks he might be panicking, because _how could he possibly know_, but he doesn't feel it, just rubbing his ankle with his left foot absentmindedly while he ponders.

'Light told me, you know.' Mello offers quietly, putting an end to his musing.

_Did he, now?_

'He said you've been doing that a lot, lately. And we noticed, me and Matt. We knew, but we never thought…' the sentence dies out. It's not like Mello to be at loss of words, not like him to be so quiet and considerate. That alarms him more than the fact that they _know_. Out of habit, he's just about to object when Mello suddenly slams the door of the refrigerator shut with such force it shakes and wobbles on the floor and despite the haze in his head he flinches when Mello's gaze throws a hundred daggers into his.

'What the fuck do you think you're doing? Huh? What the _fuck_ are you doing?'

For a moment, he just stares, muscles tense and he's just about to tell Mello that he doesn't know what he's doing because how could he, how could he when everything is so out of control, but then he finally snaps out of his coma-like state and glares back, fist clenching by his sides as anger wells up.

'Get out.'

Mello looks at him, still angry but confused too. This is the first time in months that he's actually setting his foot down, the first time in months that he lets his emotions show. And he's glad that it's anger, because anger is strong and it's burning and all he needs right now is to place that anger on someone, blame someone no matter how misplaced it might be.

'Excuse me?'

'I said, _get out_!'

When Mello still makes no indication of movement, standing with his arms crossed in front of him and staring, he steps forward, hands clenching violently around Mello's arm and then he's dragging him through the apartment, pulling sharply when Mello tries to fight back. It's probably because this unusual show of aggression caught Mello by surprise that he's able to force him out the door before slamming it shut and locking it.

Then, it's like all that energy that blossomed up so suddenly leaves him just as quickly, anger fading with it and he leans heavily on the door, sliding down until he's sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest and he buries his head between them, just breathing, until Mello stops banging on the door and calling for him, leaving instead and he can hear the heavy thuds of his boots as he walks away.

When Mello calls him later that day, he doesn't answer.

**xxx**

Light is coming home.

He paces restlessly in the hallway, fidgeting with the arms of his sleeves as he waits for him to come through the door. He knows it will be at least another hour before he does, but he can't concentrate on anything apart from the slow movements of the hands on the clock that hangs on the wall.

So he paces. And he fidgets. And he's anxious, tickling nervousness stressing him and making him walk faster, think faster, and when he decides that he can't take this anymore and moves towards the bedroom in order to lie down and shut down, Light opens the door and walks in.

They stand a few feet apart, bodies locked down as their gazes meet and won't budge. Light's hair is slightly ruffled, by the wind he presumes, and it falls in his eyes in that way that makes him title his head slightly to the side in order to see. His coat is open but his shirt is neatly buttoned and his jeans and ironed and he looks just as proper as he always does.

He, on the other hand, is a mess and he knows that without even looking in a mirror. His hair is tangled and pointing in every direction, even more disheveled than usual. He hasn't showered in five days and hasn't really slept either in just as long, making the dark bags underneath his eyes even more prominent as he stands awkwardly with his hands driven deep into his pockets.

'Hello,' Light says eventually, setting the suitcase down on the floor and shrugging off his jacket while his eyes don't leave him for a second.

'Hi,' he whispers back, uncertain of what to do and it agitates him that he doesn't. 'How was your trip?' he asks, attempting to sound casual almost uninterested and almost managing too, had it not been for the nervous movements of his fingers as they tap against his leg, only slightly hidden by the rough cloth of his jeans.

'Interesting,' Light answers, head bowed down as he kicks off his shoes and put them on the rack next to his own. 'Though a little disappointing, too, I have to admit.'

'How come?'

Light wrinkles his nose in annoyance as he speaks.

'The system in seriously lacking efficiency, it's too weakened by corruption to work properly. Either people are simply dumb enough not to notice, or they're stupid enough not to care.'

'I know, Light.'

Light exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose momentarily before he meets his gaze for a second time and then he changes in that subtle way again, eyes warm and friendly and loving when he opens up his arms and beckons him.

'Come here,' he says, and his body reacts instantly, instinctually, moving forward and letting those arms envelop him in their warmth.

'I missed you,' Light whispers as he holds him close and buries his face in his neck, one hand moving comfortingly up and down his back. And he relaxes just a little at the familiar feeling of it; in it he finds the strength to speak up.

'The text…'

Light stiffens, he can feel it when his body tenses and then relaxes again as Light regains his bearings, stepping back a little but not too much, still close enough to touch.

'Don't worry about it,' he says and smiles a little. 'It was nothing.'

'But Light,' he objects, brow frowning as he lets one of his hands search for his phone in his pocket, but Light grabs it with his own and intertwine their fingers, thumb rubbing soothingly over the back of his hands in circles. He bites his bottom lip, wanting so badly to believe him but still can't.

'It was nothing.'

Light squeezes his hands and then let it go, moving into the kitchen but he stays where he is, staring blindly at the closed door for a moment or two before he steps forward and locks it and then turns to follow Light's tracks, picking the suitcase up and chucking it carelessly into their bedroom on the way. Once he reaches the kitchen he keeps his eyes firmly on the floor, not particularly caring for the way Light lips are pressed together tightly when he rummages through the cupboards and the fridge quickly, finding nothing.

'We need to get some food,' Light says and straightens up. 'Are you coming with me?'

He glances at Light then, thumb raising to press against his bottom lip. He knows Light knows what he's done, if that phone call in the middle of the night hadn't given him away already the lack of nourishment certainly has. Part of him wishes that Light would bring it up, would confront him, but he doesn't. Maybe because he doesn't know what to say, what to do, how to act.

He doesn't, either.

'Yes.'


	23. pt23

**Author's Note:**

You know how when you know what you want to say, but just can't figure out a way to get it said? It's been like that for me throughout this entire chapter. What. A. Pain. The reason for that is probably that I'm sick. Again. Not only with a cold this time, no, but with fever, coughing fits, a sore throat and food poisoning as well. Lovely, I assure you.

Also, while writing this chapter, I listened to this one song and this one song only. It's an instrumental called **"When Ghosts get Angry" **by the band **Discopolis** and I suggest you all go and have a listen right now because it's mind-blowing. Just saying.

And while I'm still babbling about nothing, I thought I should mention I was at a poetry workshop the other day. Best thing _ever_. I don't think I've ever been so inspired to write before in my life.

(Heads up: this chapter is about twice as long as it was supposed to be. Hope you don't mind.)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note.

**xxx**

The supermarket is big. Too big. Seemingly endless rows of shelves filled to the brink and over with binge-friendly material. He follows Light as he pushes the trolley in front of them, teeth chewing nervously and unceasingly on his thumb as it's pressed snug against his bottom lip. He thinks that he should have stayed at home (he doesn't even understand why he agreed to come along in the first place) because this is barely bearable.

So much food.

Light is walking slowly, reading from a note in his hand where he jotted down what groceries they needed before they left, occasionally lifting his eyes and his hand to pick something up and put it down in the carriage. But he's tense. Something he can't identify is rolling off of him in thick waves, his movements cautious and a bit stiff.

'What's wrong?,' he asks around his thumb, tired eyes locked firmly on the death grip Light's fingers have around the handle of the trolley. Skin stretched, knuckles white.

'Why would you ask that?' he answers, not looking at him but busy giving the box of apples to their left a disapproving frown. He looks pale, eyes that are darkened shine disturbingly vibrant, accompanied by lips pressed tightly together more now than ever before. Teeth gnawing and eyelids unmoving, he looks like anger personified.

He also looks frightened.

'Because you look like something is,' he whispers, maneuvering carefully, assessing. Light is a minefield and he has to make sure not to put his feet down where it could tick him off, a feat more complicated than it probably should be considering how long he's been with him, how long he's known him. But he was always so unpredictable.

'I'm fine.'

'Are you sure?'

Light turns around abruptly, hand lashing out and grabbing his upper arm in a painfully firm grip, jerking him closer until they're standing almost nose to nose. He holds it, stares at him through the soft strands of hair that fell into his face when he moved. He looks straight into Light's eyes, disinterested on the outside but cowering on the inside. His rage is unbearable.

'I _said_ I'm _fine_.'

He nods stiffly, shifting slightly, uncomfortably, but Light doesn't release his grip. Instead he just stares, eyes digging holes into his head.

'Is there a problem?'

They both jump in surprise and he turns his head to the side, finding himself looking straight into the eyes of a concerned middle-aged man with a child in his hand. He turns his head back, eyes finding Light and realizing that he hasn't moved at all.

'No, we're fine. Thank you.'

Though he no longer has eye contact with the man, he can tell he isn't convinced by the way he sighs and drags his fingers through his hair, then proceeding to push his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. But when neither of them moves, speak or look at him again he finally leaves, throwing worried glances over his shoulder a few times before disappearing behind a shelf.

And Light. Light still isn't moving. But he's changing. He hand is shaking and keeps shaking until his arm is shaking too, face paling further and then his eyes finally break their stare and starts moving rapidly, as if they were searching for something. His grip tightens forcefully.

'Light,'

A whisper, to not break to not shatter, to gain attention and not let it slip.

'Light, it's okay.'

Eyes focus on him again, wide open staring.

'It's okay.'

At first there is no reaction, just Light shaking with the wide-eyed look, but then he seems to calm because he stills and his grip loosens, fingers fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt momentarily before he slowly moves his arm until it hangs along his side. He hangs his head with his shoulders slumped, taking a deep breath through his nose and out again and when he faces him when he's done he almost looks composed. Sane. Healthy. Normal. Like Light, like he used to.

'It's okay,' he says again, taking a hold of his hand and stroking the back of it with his thumb just like Light did before when they were home. Desperately trying to comfort. 'We'll leave. We pay for this and we'll leave. It's okay.'

And Light nods shortly, just enough for him to see it, his eyes still darting from side to side as he watches the people surrounding them anxiously.

**xxx**

_In the middle of the night he is awake, a victim to the disease that keeps him from sleeping. Just laying still, listening to his breaths and Light's, watching Light's face as he dreams where he lies on his side next to him, eyes moving behind soft eyelids, inhales and exhales soothing._

_He moves as well until he's lying on his side, facing Light. His eyes in level with his, closer, noses brushing and then his lips are brushing too, touching Light's and staying there, feeling the soft skin and the warm breath on his cheek. He relishes in it, finds comfort in it._

_A sudden shift and Light is awake just as suddenly, gingerly pressing his lips closer to his own. And then moving, tempting and enchanting, wet tongue touching and beckoning, until he is a trembling mess of hormones and want, arms wound around the golden neck and fingers helplessly lost in the soft locks that glide through them so easily._

_Their clothes disappear, leaving them both naked and he's nervous, so nervous, but when Light lies on top of him and moves while his lips trails over his chin and the edge of his lips all he can do is moan and see and hear and feel. See Light and his warm eyes, hear him when he pants and groans quietly, feel his arousal between his thighs. And he decides that he wants this, that he isn't nervous because it's all so natural, his body moving on its own accord as if it knew already what it was supposed to do, how it was supposed to move._

_So he thrusts back up, hands relocating to Light's hair and he holds it strong, encouraging and eager in his message._

_I want. _

**xxx**

Light is on edge as they pay for their groceries, on edge as they walk home and as they close the door behind them when they're there. He drops everything in the hallway carelessly and proceeds to walk around the apartment methodically to stand in front of all of the windows, pulling down the blinds and covering the glass with thick dark curtains that somehow had managed to replace the thin white cloth that hung there before without him noticing.

'What are you doing?'

No response, no indication of Light even hearing what he said.

'Light?'

'They're following me. Spying on me. I can't let them see.'

He peeks out through the window on his left, fingers delicately lifting the curtain to the side before immediately dropping it again and smoothing out the wrinkles with the palm of his hand nervously. Still on edge.

'Who is spy-?'

'Shush!'

Light makes a hushing noise, an angry face with a panicked frown and a finger over his lips and he shuts up mid-sentence, cowering again.

'Don't talk about it; they'll hear.'

_And then what happens? Light, what are you doing?_

But he doesn't ask, doesn't dare. Just nods and walks away, shuffling to the hallway to pick up what Light dropped and carrying it into the kitchen, unpacking and then packing again, shoving things into cupboards he think they should belong in. Light stands watching him, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed.

'Do you want any help?' he asks, sounding completely normal again. Too normal. His voice is calm and relaxed, quiet, but with a clear hint of authority and control and still so loud somehow.

'No, thank you.'

He doesn't turn around to look at him. He doesn't want to see the expression of Light's face now, the faint smirk and nasty eyes that are Kira's trademarks. He knows without looking, can't find it in him to face it and fight it because if Light isn't fighting it then why should he? He can't even fight himself.

'Where are you going?'

He stops as Light forces him too, blocking the door with his chest and arms and demanding tone. He titles his head upwards, looking somewhere in the general direction of Light's chin; high enough to show he's listening, low enough to not see the changes.

'Toilet,' he murmurs, pushing his way past him weakly, continuing without looking back when Light calls for him mockingly, knowingly. Locks the door and turns on the faucet, pretending that Light can't and won't hear him when he pukes red streaks on the bathroom floor.

He can't even fight himself.

**xxx**

I know I have a few reviews that I haven't replied to yet. And it's not because I don't want to, not at all because I love hearing what you thought and felt about what I wrote and I will reply; as soon as I get all my homework and school-projects finished. I just wanted to get this chapter up here so I wouldn't have to worry about it not being finished anymore.

Most uncooperative chapter ever, by the way. Jesus Christ.


	24. pt24

**Author's Note:**

Life is a nasty piece of work. Holy fuck. I need some aspirins and a cup of tea – pronto.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death note.

**xxx**

He feels as if he's slipping in and out of consciousness; sometimes aware but more than often not. Light is away for the most part, now attending university fully again and staying behind afterwards to finish up the work, and he stays at home, working and paying bills and purging. Sleep is so out of the picture he doesn't even bother trying, only lying down on the bed when Light either begs him to commands him to, or when he sleeps restlessly and wakes up in panic, yelling and shaking and crying and _needing_ him to be there to comfort and calm down.

'Maybe you should talk to someone?' he suggests silently one particularly difficult morning. But when Light slams his cup of coffee so hard against the table that it breaks and sharp pieces of porcelain shatters everywhere, all over the table and the floor and his hands, he doesn't bring it up again.

**xxx**

He hates standing in line. The little white piece of paper in his hand says '187'; the number on the screen above the pharmacist's head reads '172'. Light is out of medication and he has to get more, to keep him stable. Time passes slowly, teasingly dragging the seconds and minutes to light years. There is an old lady reeking of perfume in front of him, and a mother with a screaming child behind him. He keeps his eyes glued on the ground – in his pocket his hand clenches and unclenches, fingers tapping and pinching to keep him calm.

'178'

The queue is growing, coiling behind him like a poisonous snake ready to bite. He leans a little from side to side, keeping his feet moving, uncomfortable in the worn shoes that keep them confined. The child is still crying, the volume of its voice rising until his ears ache and he feels like turning around and throttle the infant until it shuts up. And while he's still at it, he might just as well kick the old lady to the side and allow his lungs to breathe actual air and not perfume.

But he doesn't. He waits. His ears and nose hurt and his head is starting to pound, too.

'182'

By now he is certain that he is being punished for something, because the torture never ends. The drugstore is small and apparently it is very important for just as many people to get their medicines _right now_; they push their way forward and through the line, apologizing when they walk into someone and cursing when they make something topple over. He stares at the number on the paper in his hand. 187. 187. 187. He looks at the screen.

'185'

More screaming children, people can't find what they're looking for and the pharmacist constantly has to get off her chair and show them where the things they're looking for are, he's starting to stamp his foot on the ground; silent and invisible for other but he feels the shaking in his leg.

'186'

Does it never end? Someone is coughing somewhere in the back of the queue and he sighs heavily because since he's so easily infected by pretty much everything it means that soon he'll be sick and coughing too.

'187'

Finally.

'Good day Sir, what can I help you with today?'

Pleasantries, he cannot be bothered.

'I'm here to pick up a prescription for Yagami Light.'

The pharmacist, a wrinkled lady, probably in her late 50's, turns her head to the computer in front of her and uses a finger to push her thick glasses further up the bridge of her nose while her other hand taps rapidly across the keyboard.

'Sorry, I can't find any recipes prescribed.'

'What?'

'There is no more medicine left to take out – you need a new prescription from a doctor before I can give you anything.'

He bends his head backward, breathing in and out of his nose and then turns back to the counter and the lady behind it.

'Why haven't we been informed about this? Light is on several medications that he needs to take every day, we've run out of them at home and now you're telling me that you can't give me any of them?

'I'm sorry, Sir, but that's how it works. I can't just hand out strong medication to anyone who claims to need it; I'd lose my job.'

She laughs a little, but stops it immediately with a nervous cough when she sees the look on his face.

'So, there is nothing you can do to help me out? At all?'

'Sorry, no.'

He notices a jar filled pencils that stands on the counter, can't stop the impulse as it washes over him and so he grabs it with one hand and heaves it across the room and then he walks away, kicking the door open and not even turning back to survey the eventual damage he just caused.

So angry, so frustrated. So scared; what will happen to Light when there are no pills to take? Will he lose the grip he just managed to clench around the normal life and fall straight back to the insanity and a hospital bed? He shuts off his mind as he walks home, can't even muster up the energy to confront the thoughts and the worries. Not here. Not now. Ever.

**xxx**

_So warm, so pleasant, so soothing; the feeling of Light's arms and bare chest as he snuggles closer and piles the covers and pillows up and over them until they surround them like a fort, like a comforting castle. He keeps his eyes closed, lips curving little when soft lips place softer kisses behind his ear, relishes in the gentle fanning of Light's breath against his neck._

_Relishes in Light._

_They've been spending more and more time in his apartment lately, sitting huddled together under a blanket in front of the big window, watching the city as it comes alive at night and sleepily relocating to the bed when the first glimpses of the morning sun can be seen over the top of the buildings surrounding them. Light has a few weeks off from his classes so that he can spend time to study for the upcoming exams, but he doesn't need that extra time to study, knows everything already, so the days and the nights passes in a rosy daze with coffee, conversations and naked skin._

_Finally stirring, he looks at the clock on the bedside table and groans quietly when he realizes that almost half the day has already passed and he needs to work. Sitting up and pulling the covers off of him, wincing when the air in the room chills his skin._

'_Where are you going?' Light mumbles, stretching with a yawn._

'_I have to work.' He makes an attempt to stand up, but a warm palm against the curve of his hip hinders him. He throws a look over his shoulder, eyes glued to the fingers that travels lightly down his thigh so suggestively._

'_Stay here.' _

'_I really have to get some work down; I have bills to pay, you know.'_

_Light chuckles, voice still thick with sleep but his eyes are clear when they search for his and finds them. Then he sits up too, shivering just as he did when the warmth of the covers leave him. Muscles moves under golden skin when he leans close closer, pressing against his back again and lifting one hand upwards, letting his fingers slide through his dark tangled hair, then following the outline of his jaw, stroking lightly down the side of his throat and collarbone, until resting on his shoulder where they splay out and tug backwards, coaxing him to lie back down and bury himself under the covers until all that exists in the world is the sound of soft exhales and lingering touches._

'_Stay,' he says again, and he gives in._

**xxx**

Light is getting more and more distressed as the days go by. He won't speak; just walks about the apartment and moving things back and forth and then back again, cleaning obsessively to the point where he can barely recognize his own home. It takes a week, another few days, and then, in the middle of breakfast, it comes.

'My parents are coming over.'

_Oh dear God._

'When?'

Light scrapes his fork across the porcelain plate and he scrunches his face at the noise, placing his hand on top of Light's to stop the repeated movement.

'Next week.'

Light buries his face in his hands, body rocking back and forth slowly on the kitchen chair. Fingers travel upwards to grasp fistfuls of hair, as if to ground him against the feeling, the anxiety, the hopelessness. 'On Friday.'

He slips off his chair and walks over to Light, who is bent over the table by now, repeatedly hitting his head against the edge of the table, and hugs him from behind. It's an awkward position, but it gives him the opportunity and force Light to sit back up straight again and leave his bruised forehead alone, it gives him the opportunity lean his cheek against the top of Light's head, kissing it occasionally and letting whatever warmth is left in him seep into Light shirt skin heart.

Lungs breathing heavily, he feels Light's tears as they hit the back of his hand and he hugs him tighter.

'It will be okay,' he whispers confidently in his ear, kissing the edge of it before he speaks again. 'It will be fine.'

'No. No, it won't.'

Light shakes him off and stands up, walking anxiously across the kitchen floor, fingers dragging through his hair over and over, stopping to correct the damage and then ruffling it again.

'They're bringing Sayu, too.'

'Light, calm down.'

'Didn't you hear me? They're _bringing Sayu with them_. I can't let them know, I can't let them see. I can't let _her_ see.'

He brings his thumb to his mouth, chewing on the skin because he doesn't know what to do or what to say. Light doesn't talk much about his family, doesn't even really talk with them either. He knows that every once in a while his mother will send him a box of homemade cookies and a letter ask him how he's doing and does he need anything?, and once or twice a month his father will call and tell him that he's sorry but he can't come to meet him up for lunch this time either because he's got too much work to do at the police station.

He also knows that Light doesn't really care. He calls his mother, thanking her for the cookies and no, thank you, it's fine, I have everything I need. He tells his father that it's okay, they'll make another appointment and he will be fully aware that they won't meet that time either. His love for his parents seems dull and obligated rather than unconditional.

The only difference is Sayu. She's only three years younger than him and even though they talk and laugh and enjoy spending time together she's the total opposite of Light. They are at two completely different ends of the same spectrum – he's paranoid, she's dangerously, innocently naïve. When she calls and asks for Light, and Light is home but is either franticly writing names in the black book or laying stretched across the bed with his arms over his eyes, he tells her that Light is still at the university and won't be home until late. The disappointment in her voice is always sincere.

They've only really discussed Light's family deeply while Light was in hospital, agreeing that it is better that they don't know. Light is the perfect son, the straight-A student his mother praises when she meets her friends for coffee, the ambitious and righteous young man following in his father's path, the loving older brother that rarely visits anymore but always say that he will, soon.

They can't know.

'We'll figure something out,' he says, planting his feet in front of Light and forcing him to a halt. 'We'll clean, buy some more food, organize, anything. We'll do anything and they will notice nothing.'

'Promise me you won't…'

Light looks at him, eyes a little glossy but desperately pleading. He places his hands on either side of his face, pulling him closer until their foreheads connect and the only thing he can see is the tired eyes and the darkened circles under them, feel the soft brown hair as it falls slightly.

'Promise you I won't what?'

'Throw up. Promise me you won't throw up.'

He swallows thickly, eyes darting to the floor as he rubs his foot against the opposite ankle.

'You have to promise.' Light insists, using his thumbs to force his jaw and face upwards until their eyes lock again and he can do nothing but admit defeat.

'I promise.'

**xxx**

**A/N:** If anyone has any suggestions for this story (or for me and my writing in general), feel free to drop me a line. There is this one thing that has been running around my head for some time now; the sex in this fic. Should it stay implied/very mildly written, or should it play a bigger part in the story and be more descriptive? Any suggestions or opinions will be greatly appreciated. Over and out.


	25. pt25

**Author's Note:**

Right, so I'm just going to throw this out here: my life right now is the equivalent of a train crash. I am royally fucked up; I have things to deal with that I have no idea how to handle and pretty much everything seems to be spinning out of control. But don't worry, for now I'm stable – I just need to figure out how to keep it that way. I'm not saying that so that you will feel sorry for me because I don't want you too; I just wanted you to know that there's a reason why my updates are very irregular and very far apart and that I'm sorry about that but there isn't much I can do it about it at the moment.

On a happier note, I want to thank you all for being so patient with me, and I would also like to thank the people who answered my question at the end of last chapter; you're really helping me out and it makes me happy to, in a way, involve you guys in the writing of this.

Very belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everyone! 2012 will be our year.

_(C, honey, my thoughts are with you.)_

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note.

**xxx**

_He wants to rip his eyes out, considering it seriously when he lies in bed and tries to sleep and fails.__Every __involuntary__glance in the mirror is a __knife stabbing him, every time he undresses he has to watch as the fat ripples when he moves and it's killing him. His fingers are so familiar in his throat, the gaging and heaving an everyday routine. But it isn't helping. He doesn't want to see, doesn't want to know. He wants to rip his eyes out. Or maybe die._

_Yes, perhaps death would be preferable._

**xxx**

They clean. Methodically they move from room to room, organizing and vacuuming and after pleading persuasion Light nervously removes the dark heavy curtains and replaces them with the light white ones that hung there before. They go to the supermarket, stocking up on vegetables and fish and groceries in general, then putting it all into the cupboards and the fridge and freezer and cleaning all over again. Every day for six days they clean something, throws away something, buys something new. Sometimes two or three times over, because Light needs to reassure himself that everything will appear completely normal when his parents and sister arrives.

'Are you sure this will work?'

'Positive.'

He tries his best to sound certain, hands in his pocket and he flings the hair out of his eyes with a sharp movement of his neck, walking up to Light and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. And for a second, Light seems calm, comforted, but then his eyes starts moving about rapidly again, like they do when he's agitated, and he walks through the apartment for the umpteenth, lifting moving hiding things and then re-doing it all over again.

In his head he sighs, throwing a tired glance at the clock on over the door; twenty-one hours until the Yagami family arrives.

**xxx**

He's at the pharmacist again, standing in the same line, agitated but not in the same way. He's not stressed; he's nervous. The thin paper box is slid up in his sleeve, hidden from view as he waits for his turn. He tries his best to look calm, like there's nothing bothering him, and having the years of practice that he has he's pulling it off pretty nicely – but it feels like everyone can see and that they all know. He is aware of the fact that that isn't true, momentarily wondering if Light's paranoia is rubbing off on him before shaking the thought out of his mind. Of course they can't see, of course they don't know. How could they?

_And why does he even care?_

When it's finally his number blinking red on the small screen he walks up quietly, slipping the box from his sleeve and handing it to the pharmacist at the checkout, expression as blank is it will ever be. She picks it up, throws a worried glance at him and looks like she's about to say something but he just stares and she doesn't, instead taking the money he offers and puts the box in a little bag before wishing him a good day and then he's out, breathing deeply as he shakes a little. Looking down in the bag, shame washes over him when the small packet of laxatives glares up at him, like its condemning him and judging him.

And he doesn't blame it, because he's cheating and he knows that. He found a loophole in the promise he gave to Light and he pounced on it. Light specifically stated _don't throw up_ and he's not going to, but he knows that by taking the pills he will lose weight anyway and that's what Light doesn't want. So he's cheating. Lying. Hiding. And if Light finds out his face will fall into that sad frown that appears whenever he realizes that he's lost another pound or when he sees the teeth marks on his knuckles when he comes out from the bathroom. That's why he's not telling him about the laxatives, that's why he paid in cash so that Light won't find out and that's why he spends the entire walk home trying to figure out where to hide the packet so it won't be found by anyone but him.

**xxx**

_Whispers. He whispers so quietly when they move together, his words like tendrils of wet fire, cold heat when they wash over his skin and the sensations wash through him until all that's left of him is breath and soundless moans and feelings feelings feelings._

_He dreaded them; now he craves them, craves them almost as much as he craves Light's fingers on his hips and the look in his eyes when his want consumes him just as it consumes him. No more recoiling, no more shying away. Just wanting and giving and receiving, the yearning all-consuming and never-ending._

**xxx**

In the night, carefully and soundlessly, he relocates to the bathroom, the packet of laxatives gripped tightly in his hand. He locks the door, takes a deep breath, feels ashamed again. It tears through him with sharp teeth and wicked claws, shredding him completely inside and he almost quails.

Almost.

Another deep breath and he opens the small paper box, taking out one of the plastic sheets with the tip of his thumb and forefinger. Studies it closely. Ten little pills wrapped up tightly, strikingly yellow and innocent in appearance. Taking out the instruction paper, he browses through it quickly.

_Take one before going to bed, the pill will start working in the morning._

With trembling fingers _(why is he so nervous?) _he pushes one of the pills out, letting it lay in the palm of his hand for a moment before putting it in his mouth. It tastes sweet, like sugar, he notices before swallowing, the taste lingering on his tongue and he has to swallow three mouthfuls of water before it goes away. He looks at his stomach, trying to feel.

Nothing.

Scanning through the instructions briefly, he pops another one into his mouth and swallows before he gives the chance to really think about it. Then he flushes the toilet, in case Light noticed his absence, and walks back into the bedroom. The covers encircle him and he sinks deeper into the warmth when Light snuggles closer to him, apparently still sound asleep.

It takes time. He counts the seconds the minutes the hours, counts the even rising and sinking of Light's chest as he breaths and counts the thoughts in his head. It's not until the wee hours of the morning, when the first rays of sunlight dimly finds their way through the window and colour Light golden, that his bowel churns. Swiftly he moves, squeezing his eyes tightly shut while his insides cringes and his stomach hurts and growls.

When he crawls into bed for the second time that night he's exhausted, but barely has time to recognize the feeling before Light stirs beside him and the weariness is denied and forced away, only visible in the darkened hollows beneath his eyes.

**xxx**

**A/N: **This isn't important to this fic at all, so feel free to ignore it if you want; you can go and write something that I can read later :D

Anyhow, I almost always listen to music when I'm writing. It inspires me and helps me create, changing moods and themes and, well, pretty much everything. So I thought I should just make a small list of the songs I listen to the most when writing Death Note stories.

So, not written in order:

¤ Blindside – "Fell in Love With the Game"  
>¤ The Birthday Massacre – "To Die For"<br>¤ The Knife – "Marble House"  
>¤ Nirvana – "Pennyroyal Tea"<br>¤ Clawfinger – "Biggest and the Best"  
>¤ The Strokes – "Automatic Stop"<br>¤ Coheed & Cambria – "Welcome Home"

Also, if you know of a fic that you think I might like, be it your own or anyone else's, please feel free to tell me about it (: That's all; for now, at least.


	26. MESSAGE

So, I've heard rumors; ffnet is apparently "cleaning" its website of adult-rated stories. I've decided to take action sooner rather than later, and therefore I'm writing you all this message (if you're disappointed that it's not an update on "Healing Him", I'm sorry).

I will be moving all my stories to this website: ** www (dot) adultfanfiction (dot) net**, and I will be posting stories under the penname **hamaell**, just like I do here. But the thing is, you have to be 18 years old or older be able to read the stuff on the website, and since I don't know the ages of all of my readers, I'm taking this into account as well. If you wish to read my stories but can't access them, please send an email to and I'll send the updates to you.

That said, I will continue posting stories on ffnet until my account is removed, so if I suddenly disappear from this website, you know where to find me. I'm currently working on the next chapter to "Healing Him", so hopefully that will be up soon.

Take care, my lovelies 3


	27. pt26

**Author's Note:**

This chapter is so fucking way over-due I'm actually embarrassed to post it. But nevertheless, I will. I've missed writing, and I've missed talking to you guys. Things seem to be starting to brighten up, so hopefully I can get this show starting and rolling regularly again.  
>Thank you all, so much, for your patience and kind words; you're all so sweet.<br>Also, I want to apologize in advance for the (lack of) quality in this chapter. I haven't written in months, literally, and quite frankly I'm fucking rusty so any constructive criticism or pointers will be greatly appreciated.

Oh well, here goes!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note.

**xxx**

Light has to quadruple check everything before they leave the apartment. Is the bed made? Are the floors clean? Is everything where it's supposed to be. He stands in the hallway, feet shoved in the shoes that he hates and tries, really _really_ tries, to wait patiently for Light to stop searching for hidden cameras and microphones.

'We have to go.'

'Just give me a second, I need to check the bathroom again.'

'We're going to be late.'

A pause. Then Light is right beside him in half a second, simultaneously putting on his shoes, coat and scarf as his eyes scan the apartment one final, nervous, time. Then he grabs his arm, slams the door open and then closed again as soon as he's dragged them both out, putting the key in the lock and violently pulling the door handle a few times to make sure it's locked. Spinning around, hand still in its tight grip on his upper arm, Light storms down the stairs, taking two three five steps at a time. He stumbles awkwardly after him, tripping on his own feet and for a few seconds his arm is freed as he tumbles down a couple of steps, ribs and hips screaming in agony along with his head when they hit the rock hard surface of the stairs and floor. He barely has time to hiss through his teeth and put a hand to his head in an attempt to soothe the ache before Light half helps, half drags him off of the floor and back up on his feet.

'Hurry!'

**xxx**

The stand at the central station, waiting for the Yagami-family's train to arrive. His head is pounding mercilessly and his vision is slightly blurry, he hunches and leans against the cold wall, his fall down the stairs playing out itself before his eyes like a movie stuck on repeat. Light is tapping his fingers again his legs as it shakes a little, head twisting this way and that way as he tries to pick up on any potential danger.

'You need to calm down,' he whispers tiredly, head hung between his knees to ease the nausea, however hopeless it might be.

'You need to stand up,' Light replies irritably, throwing an annoyed glance towards him. 'They'll be here any minute.'

He wants to tell Light that it's his fault they had to hurry because he wouldn't stop checking, that it's his fault he can't stand up without holding onto something because he practically threw him down the stairs on the way out. But he doesn't, it's not worth the fight, not worth the effort. He's so tired.

The speakers crackle and he can almost hear what the voice is saying, but there are too many people, it's too loud, but that doesn't matter because Light is already three steps away and moving towards the tracks to their left, indicating that the message that was delivered said that the train they're expecting just arrived. He stands up, too quickly, head spinning and eyes blackening for a moment before he gains his bearings and digs his hands into the pocket of his jeans and walks after Light, who only seems to be moving faster and faster with every step he takes and he has trouble keeping up. So focused on not falling behind, he doesn't realize that light has stopped until he bumps face-first into his back. Light turns around, looking at him, saying nothing. He's just about to apologize when the train slowly rolls into the station and suddenly Light appears to have plenty to say.

'Okay, remember what we rehearsed?'

'Yes.'

'Repeat.'

'Light, I…'

'Fuck, never mind, they'll be here any second now. Take your hands out of your pockets, try to smile a little and _for the love of God_ straighten your back and stand up properly.'

As Lights throws him directions and orders his eyes wander frantically across the place; the doors, the ceiling, the windows, the people, himself and the very spot that they are standing. And then someone calls, and Light changes in half a heartbeat.

Out of nowhere comes Sayu, throwing her arms around Light's waist, hugging him tightly whilst squealing out a series of happy noises, probably something along the lines of "hello how are you I've missed you so much what's up oh my God I'm so happy to see you!" and Light's poker face is on, relaxed with a warm smile that reaches all the way up to his eyes, hugging his little sister back and assuring her that he missed her, too. And he can't help but to smile, too. Even though it's just an act and Light is miserable but doesn't want to show it, he still looks happy.

He hasn't looked happy in a very long time.

He's pulled out of his thoughts when he realizes that Sayu is standing right in front of him with her hand reached out. He moves is own to shake it, bus as soon as the tips of his fingers graze the palm of her hand and pulls him into a bone-crushing hug and she giggles when his initial reaction is to choke and recoil before awkwardly patting her on the top of her head as if she was a dog jumping up and down with excitement over seeing him. When she finally steps back her smile fades just a little when she titles his head to the side, eyes scanning him from the top of his head to the tip of his toes and then back up again.

'You're tiny,' she says, stepping forward again and poking his side. 'I could wrap my arms around you like three times.'

He doesn't know how to answer that so he turns to Light, but Light seems just as perplexed as he is, so he turns back to Sayu, smiling a little and shrugging his shoulders while mumbling something incoherent explanation.

'I wish I could be so skinny; how do you do it?'

_Bingeing, purging, starving…_

'Sayu!'

He sighs inwardly. Saved by the bell, by the arrival of Light's mother and father and for the first time he gets to see them in real life. Sachiko is exactly like he imagined her; a short woman in her mid-40s, calm with a friendly smile on her face. He does, however, notice the small wrinkles of worry on her forehead and comes to the conclusion that Light probably inherited his talented acting skills from her. She reaches out and they shake hands, her hands small and soft and warm, gentle in their grasping.

'Mind your manners, Sayu,' she says to her only daughter, then turning towards him again. 'I'm sorry, she can be a little bit too straight forward sometimes,' smiling while sending a motherly glare at her youngest child. Sayu hands her head a little and mumbles an apology before quickly brightening up again. Although only three years younger than her brother, she is more open and innocent in her appearance, like she either still hasn't been made aware of the horror of the world or as if she's figured out a genius way to black said horrors out and carry on living happy anyway. He can't help but to envy her a little.

The sound of a throat being cleared makes him turn slightly and face Light's father, Soichiro, for the first time. Even he is exactly as he imagined, if not only slightly more intimidating. Not in a way that would indicate short-temper or possibility of violence, but with his ironed suit, polished shoes and tie, hair starting to grow gray and combed back elegantly, it's obvious that he's a man that demands to be respected. So he straightens his back a little bit more, steadies himself and let's his face go blank as he shakes his hand, too.

'It's a pleasure to meet you, Yagami-san,' he says, nodding towards Sachiko to make sure she knows she's included in the greeting. Soichiro's hand grabs a little tighter and then let's go whilst quickly eyeing him much like Sayu, but more thoroughly and discrete. He holds his face and keeps his eyes fixed on the older man's face and nods when Soichiro says it's nice to meet him to. He then proceeds to grab Light's hand in his and shakes it, behaving more as if Light was a fellow policeman or potential client rather than his son. But Light only smiles and shakes back, like it doesn't matter. And to him, it probably doesn't; from what he understands, the relationship between them has always been merely formal.

They move away from the crowd of people still getting of the train and start walking towards the exit, and he tries his best to keep up with Sachiko's friendly small-talk, Sayu's childish enthusiasm and Soichiro's business-like conversation. It's a lot to take in and when he catches his reflection in a window he shudders and turns his head down, thrusting his hands into his pockets, pinching his thighs hard enough to bruise without even thinking, but regains his control when Light jabs his shoulder, careful to make it look as if he accidentally bumped into him.

But the real stresser appears when Sayu loudly complains that she's hungry and the Yagamis' decides it's time for lunch – a decision he is not at all comfortable with. They walk into a small café, and when he walks through the door it feels as if he just ran straight into a wall. The smell is overwhelming and his stomach twitches violently and for a moment he's brought to an involuntary hault, but his legs moves unwillingly again when Light squeezes one of his hands lightly before letting go and they walk towards a table next to a window, and after a quick glance at Light he forces himself to sit with his legs down and feet planted firmly on the floor, even though he wants nothing more than to bring his knees up to his chest and rock back and forth on his chair. A waitress shows up with a menu and he scans through it quickly, noting Light doing just the same only looking for possible dangers, and decides on a salad, quietly ask the waitress as she returns if he could please have it without the mozzarella, the pasta and the oil.

The meal drags on for eons, and his agitation shoots through the roof when his body violently protests when he closes his lips around the fork with shaky hands. He feels as if someone is staring. Like everyone is staring. As panic seeps into his head he casts worried glances at the Yagami family, at the other people in the café, at the people that are walking by outside. He puts his fork down gently, fingers starting to tap against the edge of the table on their own accord.

'Are you alright?'

Sachiko's question, filled with motherly worry, startles him and he quickly retreats his fingers and clenches his hands beneath the tablecloth.

'Ah… Yes, I'm fine, thank you. I just…'

Light puts a hand on his shoulder and smiles timidly towards his mother.

'He's okay; he caught a stomach bug a few weeks ago, it's probably just that acting up again. Will you excuse us for a moment please?' he says, standing up and beckoning him to do the same, grasping his wrist and turning to walk towards the bathroom. He hangs his head once again, much too aware of the worried, questioning looks that stabs his back like knives. Light opens the door to one of the toilets, pushing him in and calmly closing and locking the door before pushing him down to sit on the toilet lid, pacing back and forth in the small space with his hands grasping his hair and pulling it slightly.

'What do you think you're doing? They know something isn't right!'

He looks up at Light through the dark strands of his hair, bringing his thumb to his mouth and biting it hard.

'I'm trying, I'm really trying.'

'Try harder.'

He curls up on his seat, teeth breaking the skin of his finger and the sickening taste of blood starts infecting his mouth. Light stops his pacing, at first just standing looking down at him, then slowly inching down, knees on either side of the seat and hugs him, pressing gentle kisses on his temples and his head.

'I'm sorry,' he whispers, lovingly running his fingers through his hair before cupping his chin and titling it upwards until their eyes meet. 'I'm sorry,' he says again, placing yet another kiss on his skin. 'I'm just nervous, that's all. I'm sorry.'

He nods, because he understand and because he's nervous too; not so much about what Light's family will think, but more about Light and his way of handling the situation. He knows he's stressed, he's tense and way too warm and open, talking and laughing as if nothing bothered him at all. But it's starting to take its toll on him, a moment of lost control and his body starts to tremble ever so slightly, eyes flickering. How long can he keep up the act?

'Let's go back, we shouldn't keep them waiting,' he says and Light smiles a little, kissing his forehead one last time before leaving the bathroom.

**xxx**

'_This is nice', he whispers._

'_It is,' Light replies, intertwining their fingers and turning his head to the side to look at his face, his smile as dazzling as the stars above their heads._

_It's 2 o'clock in the morning and they're lying next to each other on the roof of the apartment building. They've been there since midnight, mapping out the stars, their signs and constellations. Shoulders arms hips legs feet touching innocently, Light's warmth seeping through the layers of clothes and skin, burying itself deep in his bones, staying._

_He sighs, and Light moves, lying on his side using his arm and hand to support his head._

'_What is it?'_

'_I don't know. It's so peaceful. Beautiful.'_

_Light giggles softly, so quietly he can barely hear it._

'_Not like you,' he whispers before bowing his head down and pressing their lips together ever so gently. Always so gently._

**xxx**

They spend the remaining hours of the day walking about, Light leading them to let them see his university and guiding them through the streets, pointing out statues and landmarks, ruffling Sayu's hair like any brother, making sure his mother is comfortable and that his father isn't bored like any son. And he walks with them, trying his best to appear completely careless, even managing a few half-hearted laughs when Sayu makes a funny face or shines up with enthusiasm when he tells her swiftly about his job as a detective. Eventually the sun begins to set, and they walk back to the hotel Light's family is staying at; it was agreed upon before their arrival that it would be more convenient if they stayed there rather than at his and light's apartment, where there wouldn't be enough space for all of them to move around comfortably.

And so that they could drop the act and try to muster the energy to do it all again tomorrow.

**xxx**

Quite a few of you wanted to get in touch with me after the message, and I just noticed that the email account I typed up didn't show *facepalm*. So, here we go again.

If you wish to contact me, you can do so by either writing me a pm or write an email to **hamaell **. Also, if you write me a pm but don't have an account, please include an email address or any other means so that I can get back to you.


End file.
